


But She's Cold Inside

by Shatterpath



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Mages, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Swords & Sorcery, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-12 10:13:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 24,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3352772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a land of magic, scarred by too much war, can two souls help heal one another move on to better things?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, back in September of last year, I got this half-formed idea of letting The Avengers inspire me into a really interesting high fantasy idea. (Gotta get back to that…) Part of the Steve-inspired character was a background that paid homage his bond to Peggy, lost to time. Then came Agent Carter the show and all that adoration for our sassy soldier boiled up again. And I thought to myself 'hey, you love Peggy and Angie; why not use the existing backstory to write about them?' So, for lack of a better idea, I poked at this one and hopefully more will come of it than this lone chapter. 
> 
> Title taken from, KT Tunstall- Other Side of the World. The song makes me think of Peggy and Steve and now how it could apply to Peggy and Angie.
> 
> PLEASE, prompts are not just welcome, but probably a necessity! I can ramble on with the best of them, but a thread of plot is always welcome. And once the mini-series is done, I intend a marathon rewatch to get any and all ideas!
> 
> P.S: I blame Angie's adorable habit of calling Peggy 'English' for this entire thing. Seriously.

The Second Great War at last fell silent and the men of the cities and towns and fields trickled home with war forever trapped in the their lungs, in their eyes, burned into their very souls. 

Every soul of very land lay scarred, no matter how far removed from the actual stink of battle they may have been. The very air and water seemed tainted with it, a sapping drain on their energies, leaving them all gray and brittle. Only time would fix that, let them become vibrant peoples once more.

Wary of the violence building again in the Northeastern Wastes, the Amer lands hesitated for years before answering the call for aid grown shrill from their breaking allies. The Elves had been as decimated as their once beautiful lands, the northern territories of the Trolls half-emptied by the sheer numbers of dead, the Griffins enslaved nearly to the last feather and no one dared speak of what had been done to the Fairies and the others of the once glorious central forests. With an ocean separating them from the other sentient races, Humankind had forever been so isolationist, forever caught up in their own madnesses, their own conflicts and insecurities. But once roused, they were a force to be reckoned with. The malformed, evil things that poured out of that whole torn in the very reality of the Northern Wastes had made an implacable enemy and the peoples of the surrounding lands were bolstered by the sheer mass of Amer's Humans. With a last, tragic effort, they sealed the gap for the second time.

But was it enough?

Every intelligent being in all the lands would forever wonder if this time it had worked, despite the ultimate sacrifice of the greatest warrior of the War and his powerful allies in sorcery and brotherhood. Would that towering edifice of ice and stone and ravaged trees and hardened lava be enough to forever cork that gap?

Only time would tell.

Rubbing her eyes against the glare, Anelli left the afternoon's garbage for the bagmen and stretched in the oily sunlight. And to think she was one of the lucky ones, her thankless job of serving the masses food and drink in little danger of being taken by a returning soldier. Small graces, that. At least more coin was trickling back into the city and out to merchant and common worker. Eating a bit better was certainly a welcome change, as were the random coppers left for tips. Though the random jumpy soldier a little too quick to dive for his dagger was wearying on the nerves.

Ah well, it could be worse, for Anelli dreaded being a bar wench and was far happier with dealing with the hungry and not the drunk. The weak smallbeers of the Griffin Inn hardly qualified for drunkenness!

With a sigh, Anelli headed back inside to finish cleaning up from breakfast and ready herself for the midday meal. Same thing, different day. But a surprise strode in through the heavy doors and their slats of wood and glass. It wasn't that the stranger was a woman, that happened irregularly enough, or even the long dagger that hung easily at her side, or even the familiar colors of city workers encasing her in a stylish tunic and hose of blue and red. It was the unearthly lovely face and upswept ears revealed when the woman pushed back her hood to look around. Had the place contained more than four customers, a hush would have fallen over the room, but Anelli was an audience of one. Falling back on the well-practiced aplomb of an experienced serving wench, Anelli fired off her best smile and nodded to the sturdy counter with its worn stools. "Get you a meal or some blackbark there, Elvish?"

Smoky dark eyes blinked around a flicker of surprise and amusement on the beautiful, impassive face, but she strode forward on silent feet to sit. "Blackbark, please."

The low, lyrical voice matched the exotic good looks, the way she formed the words just slightly off in these Human lands. Dark waves of hair fell loosely, the deep mahogany almost disguising the red that always gave away those gifted with magic. The loose curls framed a striking, high-cheekboned face and large eyes so deep and black a person could fall into them and never see daylight again. They swept up in the corners as though in compliment to those delicate ears, the cheekbones, the strong, chiseled jaw. 

Anelli's first encounter with an Elf was not a disappointment. 

Once the bitter, bracing drink filled a mug, Anelli tilted her head towards the racks of baked goods, half decimated by the morning rush. "We've sweet and savories if you're in a hurry, or the cook can whip you up something hot. There's fresh eggs left today and a selection of the fruit pies that have made us famous."

The patter made the Elven woman smile faintly before she coughed at a sip of the blackbark steep. Some exotic epithet fell from her lips and Anelli bit down a peal of laughter. "The locals like their morning brew to bite back."

"I'm growing accustomed to that, yes. At least yours does not taste as though it might actually be lethal."

That did make Anelli laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

Thus it began, an odd friendship between the two so very different women. Anelli was always happy to see her regular and the days seemed longer when that enigmatic smile was not part of them. She chattered at the quiet Elf, prying out of her an expectedly exotic name, and an unexpectedly mundane job here in Godam.

"You've a warrior's stride, Phyra Getteray," Anelli teased, still tickled to have earned the gift of the quiet Elf's name. "For someone who inks copies of grimoires all day."

There were so many secrets in those black eyes, shadows and loss that echoed in so many soldiers come home from war. But these were deeper, darker, more lingering and not just because of their midnight black.

"There is no shame in such mundanities," Phyra sassed back primly. "A grimoire done poorly could kill a mage."

"Don't huff so. I respect that you excel at the brains and not the brawn, Elvish. You still move like you expect a knife or spell skewered in you."

There was no response to that, Phyra staring into her mug, her spirit clearly troubled. Anelli did not take the quiet personally, for more than a few sentences was a gift from her favorite patron.

"The magic," Phyra abruptly spoke up, voice tense as though it pained her. "It… it drains me. It drains me and is visceral memory of things… lost."

Those black eyes were a million miles away and the oil lamp that burned day and night at the counter began guttering and sparking. Even when the ceramic mug cracked, Anelli ignored the primitive fear of her mundane kind held deep in their bones of their magical kin and laid a gentle hand on Phyra's wrist. With a jolt of power like thunder rumbling in the distance, the black eyes blinked back to the present and the woman recoiled. Or tried to. Anelli might be as ordinary as dirt, but her hands and heart were strong, her sky blue eyes calm and warm. Ragged breath evened out, coiled muscle relaxed, fear and shame receded; all from the weight of that tight hold around one wrist.

"Let me get you a new cup," Anelli finally spoke quietly, squeezing the flesh and bones beneath her hand for a moment before at last letting go.

They did not speak further about the incident, but there were a few welcome silvers left behind once Phyra had left.

And her visits never wavered.


	3. Chapter 3

When Phyra vanished for nearly two weeks, Anelli was surprised how much she missed the quiet, dark woman. Customers came and went, even among her regulars and she couldn't recall missing one quite so much. There was something hypnotic and enticing about her strange regular.

"Prolly magicked ya," Cook grunted when he caught her mooning and ignored the embarrassed glower.

"Forgive a girl for missing a customer who doesn't make her feel like a purse to bunk or an ass to slap!"

Cook only grunted and Anelli stomped out to the serving room with hands laden down with plates and bowls for the hungry masses. At least the warming weather had brought in more business to keep the staff busy, leaving little time for more than work and sleep in her little rooms upstairs. The extra coin too, squirreled away in a safe place, was as welcome as rain in the open oven of deep summer. The foodstuffs were improving seasonally as well, even the great city of Godam a slave to the seasons. The southern lands were flushed with early crops shipped to all corners of the land, still expensive but so very welcome to those that suffered more drastic weather. The crowds dug into tender greens normally sneered at by a city more accustomed to more hearty fare, into barrels of light-bodied fish and colorful fruits. Certainly the foods kept frozen in enchanted cases cold as deep ice kept all fed and healthy, but that could not compare with the fresh goods.

As complained to Cook, the crowd was grabby this eve, flush with the first promise of spring in the air and on their plates. Though at least they were looser with their coin as well and that stayed Anelli's sharp tongue for the most part. 

In fact, it was the gradual but distinctive quieting of that joviality that drew her eye to the door to stare along with everyone else.

"You do know how to make an entrance," Anelli chuckled dryly, as much to break the sudden quiet as to offer greeting. Phyra refrained from glowering around at the crowd, but it was a narrow thing and the effort made her eyes painfully tense. What was far odder was the tall presence at her back, a man dressed in finery that made him stand out in this place even more than the pointed ears both sported. Only as an afterthought did Anelli even notice the heavy rucksack on Phyra's back, the bulky sacks hanging from both their hands. Approaching with something just shy of wariness, Anelli looked up into the deep, dark eyes, seeing the conflict and dazed desperation there. Something had clearly gone wrong in days she had not been here.

"I… I didn't know where else to go."

Yes, Anelli had seen this before, a lost soul with all her worldly goods in hand, the weight of which seemed to be the only thing still weighting her this earth. "We'll find you a room," she spoke gently and flicked her gaze to the uncomfortable man and gave him a humorless smile. "But no smuggling you in, good sir. The lady of the house has inviolate rules involving men above the ground floor."

Clearly startled, he dropped the sacks with the clattered of muffled metallic clanks and raised his hands. "No, I…"

"We've a mutual… friend," Phyra almost chuckled, though the growl of irritation under that last word spoke of something not entirely friendly. "Thank you, Jhedvin, for the ride and the assistance. I'll be in touch."

With clear hesitation-- Anelli couldn't help but think he would make a terrible gambler-- the Elven man stepped back, torn between concern for his companion and desperation to flee. "If you're certain, Lady Getteray."

"I am."

Grabbing the fallen sacks, Anelli yelped when she yanked and something within the right one rapped across her knuckles. That shape within the cloth looked suspiciously like a pommel and crossbar. It was hardly a shock after months of watching Phyra's contrary body language.

"Mother and Child, Elvish, you have a body in here?"

The softer sack could be thrown over a narrow shoulder, but the sword and other clanking objects would have to be dragged, hopefully not tearing the sack. Phyra tried to dredge up a smile for the shot at blasphemous humor, but it came out more a grimace, particularly when she moved to walk, the limp only half-hidden by sheer force of will.

"A lady mustn't leave behind her things."

"Pots and pans and stirrers no doubt," Anelli sassed wryly and eyed the barely-hidden length of sword as she dragged it beside her. "Cook! Give me a moment and I'll return to the rabble!"

Ignoring his sputtering, she ducked in the back room and past the crates and sacks of foodstuffs to a dim hall and narrow stairs.

"This is not a proper inn?"

A chuckle escaped Anelli at the tentative question. "No, not exactly. It was once and no one saw fit to change the name. This is a boarding house only for women with no men and no children. There are more of us than ever it seems like and we're full to the rafters even with the clever ones carving out little squirrel corners anywhere a she can. And you're in luck as I've my own bathroom."

"Wait, you can't mean to put me in your own rooms."

The pained footsteps grew silent behind her and Anelli sighed before she half turned to give her charge a long look. "Where else will you go, Elvish? This place has clearly not been kind to you. Let me be the exception."

Blinking in bewilderment, the mage fell silent and meekly followed, knowing truth when she saw it. There were few sounds coming from the doors they passed, the evening too young to bring the women to their roosts. A snatch of tune echoed down from upstairs, a voice raised elsewhere, shouts from the streets below. The familiarity of this place settled Anelli in her bones gave her a barometer to read the mood of the place, judge the physical safety of her surroundings before unlocking her door and entering. She was no mage, but her instincts were solid. Hefting the sacks to the side of the small room, Anelli nodded to the bed.

"Sleep and heal, Phyra. I'll be back in a few hours, so no skewering me."

Still saturated in bewilderment and loneliness, Phyra stared as Anelli moved to leave.

"An… Anelli." A pause for a hard swallow, laced with unshed tears. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Rest now."


	4. Chapter 4

At the end of the working day, the population fed and off to home or recreation or drink elsewhere, the doors and windows were barred and the small staff browsed the foodstuffs left that would not last until the morn. Anelli lingered until it was only Cook was left and he only raised a shaggy brow at the amount of food she gathered, far more than she could eat herself.

"Be careful," he rumbled as they went their separate ways after locking down the backrooms against thieves in the night. The words rang true and Anelli had none to reassure him with and merely crept away. 

Part of her half expected the strange encounter with the Elven woman to have been a figment of her imagination, to find her familiar room empty save her own things in their accustomed places. And for a split second, she believed it, until she noticed the bulk of sack and backpack discretely tucked up beneath the window, the rustle of sound from the bathing room.

"I've dinner," she spoke quietly and sat on the bed to pull over the rickety little table folded nearby. Having another body underfoot would take some getting used to, no matter how brief. Somehow, she would have to wheedle a space from the Missus. Really, Cook and Missus had names, but no one really ever remembered them. In time, their roles had defined them to the point of subsuming their identity. Anelli dreaded that being her fate, even as she watched it happen to her elders and saw no escape for herself.

Movement and the slosh of water gave notice of Phyra's intent, though the low moan, a near-soundless breath made Anelli pause. Yet, she did not give voice to her concern. Somehow that was more familiar than she knew she could be, more familiar than the affectionate nickname, in sharing this intimate space.

The rustle of cloth and drip of water heralded the faint creak of door and the shift in candlelight as the Elven woman hobbled from the bathing room. Startled, Anelli blinked and left off her meal and found herself smiling. For no more was her companion an exotic city employee with clear secrets, but a mere woman only half-clothed, her long ears crumpled by the towel wound round her head. The chortle of amusement bubbled up, making Phyra's expression go curious.

"What?"

"Just good to see you so… normal."

Beneath the faintly dusky cast of her skin, the Elf flushed warmly, delighting Anelli again. Her own fair coloring would show that blush like paint if there were much to make her blush any longer. 

"Thank you for this. Though I confess I have no idea why."

"Despite the roughness of my thankless task, Elvish, I am an excellent judge of character. You pass. Would you like something a bit stronger than the usual fare?"

Still Phyra hesitated, despite the hungry, black gaze, before sitting on the bed and reaching out for a crumbling pastry, slightly stale from its long day in the Inn's common room, waiting to be eaten. There was a hearty stew as well that Anelli had already left quite a dent in, so she pushed it over and went for the bread. The warm food was clearly even more welcome as Phyra went at it greedily once she'd taken a hesitant sample. Anelli understood physical hunger, how it drained a body, left it shaken and wasted. Sometimes, sating that simple need could do so much more than merely stop the grumble in one's guts. 

Rather than ask again, Anelli twisted, cursing the familiar ache in her tired back, and pulled out a worn skin of ale and a treasured glass bottle of something far stronger. With the increase in monies, she would soon be able to renew that treat anyway. There was already a cup of smallbeer from the serving goods, that Phyra polished off and Anelli filled with the proper ale to be shared. Thus they ate their first meal together, the odd companions, as the building around them bustled with the life of evenings before the women within settled to sleep. That would be some time yet and Anelli drank up the familiarity of it all.

"This bed is awful," Phyra spoke up in the silence as it drifted into awkward waters and Anelli shrugged with a small smile.

"I wouldn't know. I've never slept in it. I don't pay extra just for the bathroom, but for the little benefit I noticed that apparently the lady of the house is unaware of."

"You've me curious, despite myself."

Grinning for real then, Anelli scrambled from the bed and sidestepped past her companion's knees in the narrow space and rooted around the narrow space to draw up her prize. For a moment Phyra was confused, but her lovely face cleared as Anelli drew the net behind her head and over the bed.

"A hammock! Good sleeping, those. Where is the eyebolt?"

Plucking loose a battered old sculpture in the visage of laughing Child, the deity of mischief and play, from what looked to be a heavy black iron ring revealed the hidden eyebolt. "The Missus would never suspect even I of such blasphemy."

Throaty like water tumbling over round stones, Phyra's laugh was as beautiful as the rest of her, the delight lightening the weight of shadows she carried on her heart and soul, if only for the moment. "Have I thanked you and I suppose Child too, that I met you?"

Pleased and warmed, Anelli slipped the iron hook into the eyebolt and returned the smile. "You have now."

To deflect seriousness further, Anelli gently shouldered aside her guest and scooped up her blankets to toss them into the loose folds of the hammock just above the ratty old mattress.

"I can have that bedding dumped on the bed, the hook loose and the net stowed away before the Missus knocks thrice. Believe me, the boast has been tested often. You press yourself to the wall in your own bedding and I'll dump mine atop you in disguise should the nosy old hen come knocking. You a quiet sleeper?"

"Quite. And I can imagine this mattress will only encourage my stillness."

"Excellent. Finish eating and I'll clean up from the day."

Unaccountably flustered, Anelli retreated the few steps to the bathroom and squinted at herself in the battered pewter mirror. Really, what was wrong with her? That smile had been like a blinding ray of sunshine through a dreary rain. She had childish memories of a sun and sky that bright, that warming.

Or was that merely this new flutter of summer in her heart from the warmth in night-dark eyes and a red-lipped smile?


	5. Chapter 5

Once warmed and cleaned of her long day, Anelli dressed for bed, deciding that she'd enjoy a night in despite the inevitable nagging that was bound to come her way from friends in the building. For a moment, she blinked in confusion at the empty room. Where had Phyra gone?

"Apologies," she spoke, startling Anelli, even as there was a strange sensation of blurring and the room cleared. "I was getting focused before sleep overtook me."

Where there had been only shadows, her body was a normal shape beneath plain, dark woolen blankets and an equally dark sheet. Even the rucksack and the bags of things lumped carefully to be inconspicuous seemed more… real.

"I forget that you are one of magic's chosen. You're dark enough to almost hide it."

A nod of the aforementioned mane acknowledged the observation. "I've relied upon that at times. I can attest that your Missus will not know that I am here."

That earned a bark of laughter. "Elvish, I'll lay odds that even I will half forget that you're here. Discrete thing."

The smile was more sensed than seen.

Shifting the lone candle in the room to the shelf near the bed, Anelli retrieved a book she indulged in here and there before shaking the bed as she clambered into the hammock. Squirming and grunting almost comically, she went through her routine, the blankets tucked just right around tired feet and settled with a long sigh.

"Comfortable?" Phyra drawled out with a thrum of humor one didn't need to see her face to know she was smiling.

"Quite," Anelli sassed in a practiced imitation to the Elf's cultured tone and earned a scoff of laughter.

Quiet settled, an island of peace in the noisy building, women's voices chattering the spectrum of emotion from anger to sadness to bright laughter and all shades between. Twice callers came knocking, protesting being put off any festivities and mocking Anelli for staying in with a book of all things where there were charms to be had in the night. Twice the warmth at her back tensed like a predator and the shadows drew thick in disguise until it was the two of them once more. The second interruption had clearly chased sleep off for the moment and Phyra spoke into the quiet that had fallen over the Inn with most of her denizens away.

"What led you to preferring a hammock?"

Of all the personal questions she could have asked, that one surprised Anelli. Never one to hold her tongue easily, she had to tease. "You've got me relaxed and comfortable and trusting and that's all you can think to ask?"

This time the humor was laced with a more familiar melancholy. "I confess that a night like this has been a rare treat."

That distant war seemed frightfully close for a moment and Anelli shook it off with effort. "I've a large family and things of my own were a rarity. An uncle taught me to make these and my patience rewarded me with a bit of coin here and there when a buyer could be found."

A light touch on her back nearly made Anelli jump in surprise, a feathery stroke over the blade of her shoulder and the line of backbone nearly to the base of her neck. 

"You've a finer hand than a sailor, and favor better materials. Perhaps I shall commission you."

"I can do that, but you'd best not be a hurry, Elvish. These things take time."

"Yes, they do," she agreed, voice softening into sleep, the stroke of gentle fingers falling away.

It wasn't until later that it registered it was the first time Phyra had touched her.


	6. Chapter 6

For three days, Phyra did little more than sleep and ask odd, drowsy questions like why she favored the scent of pine in her bathing and why the energy of her heart was so orange. That last one had left the woman who always had a word or two to say completely speechless. If asked, she could not have quantified the oddness of her new friend.

On the evening of the third day, Phyra strode in through the main doors of the common room as though her last entrance had never happened.

Anelli was startled enough to drop a fork and annoy a patron.

There was no hint of a limp, of days and nights of exhaustion, of the less aloof and controlled woman that Anelli had begun to get to know. Once again in her city colors and with stoic pride in every line of her body, Phyra collected a pair of fresh pies, one meat and one fruit, before finding a stool at the counter.

"Get you a meal or some blackbark there, Elvish?" asked Anelli, just as she had that first day and a smile curled Phyra's lips.

"Blackbark, please," she responded just as she had then, adding, "I found I've missed the strength of the brew."

"Well, we're one of a kind."

"That you are."

Disconcerted again, Anelli tended to her duties, keeping her composure even when, in a slow moment, Phyra's voice rose up to carry over the background hum of patron and the city beyond.

"Cook? Might I trouble your Missus in inquiry of renting a room?"

The burly man framed himself in the window that led to the kitchen to squint at the Elf. "Yer trav'lin' light fer someone lookin' to roost, girl."

"My things are safe nearby."

Cook snorted in dry humor, suspecting exactly where she'd been since the last dramatic entrance. "Wait a tick and the Missus will see ya."

"Thank you, sir."

"Sir," he scoffed and shook his grizzled head as he tended his cooking. As though a red head herself with the power to magic herself to the right place at the right time, Missus appeared moments later, her droll face as pinched and alert as always. "Elvish there lookin' to rent."

Beady eyes landed on Phyra like a flock of hungry crows. There was no pleasure in the unusual nature of her patron, but she could not deny the quality of her clothing and upkeep, nor the coin it should represent. Nor could she miss the martial set of the Elf's posture, the alertness in her surroundings.

"We're mighty full."

"So Anelli has informed me. I assure you that even a berth in the stables would be welcome. I would not be a difficult tenant."

Like Cook, Missus scoffed and a pointed glance at the gleam of red in mahogany tresses made Phyra flinch.

"Not purposely, lady."

Anelli's heart sank and Phyra's eyes cut away, something in that small defeat softening the older woman, who sighed dramatically. 

"Ah'right, you. There's corners in the stables 'til space opens up and you've earned a bit of trust. Copper a night and no shenanigans. You can use the showers and toilet on the second floor. That one," a jutted thumb made Anelli wave sheepishly, "can show you 'bout, seein' you be chums and all."

"Done. The stables will keep away any trouble inadvertently mine."

"No shenanigans," Missus warned direly once more and Phyra nodded solemnly. Once the old woman had harangued her husband and left once more, Anelli came over to marvel quietly.

"I'm not sure if she likes you or you did some sort of magic on her."

A enigmatic smile could mean many things. "I'm just that charming."

Well, she couldn't argue that, now could she?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter yet and hopefully a hint of things to come!

It had taken some effort, but Phyra had been persuaded in leaving most of her things in Anelli's more secure room. Oddly, that was the last she'd seen of her quiet companion in several days, but she was pretty well used to it. 

That didn't stop her being relieved when darkly red hair and upswept ears caught her eye in the doorway.

Her even odder Elven companion was climbing back into a fancy, sleek carriage and swept away as Phyra strode in with a small smile that spoke of shyness and apology. More amused than irked with the usual disappearing routine, Anelli gestured to the empty counter.

"If you'd come by before such a late hour, Elvish, I'd have something better to serve you."

"And miss the pleasure of having you nearly all to myself?"

Not the first time the gorgeous mystery had teased and flirted, but Anelli still felt that arrow-shot of warmth in her belly, fighting a flush on her fair cheeks. Phyra was back in her city colors, the familiarity another question that lingered in Anelli's quick mind. What sort of scribe of grimoires vanished for days on end and returned so often with shadows in her eyes and pain in her body and exhaustion on her mage's soul and still remained in civic pay? So strange… 

As though Child were playing a cosmic prank, a group of raucous men stumbled in. They were the sort to cause trouble, rough sorts, young and hotheaded with edgy moods heightened with hunger and the want for dubious entertainment now that the long workday was over. Sure enough, several swaggered to the counter, led by a mean-eyed brute that carried trouble as solidly as his muscular bulk.

"I've hunger," he leered and Anelli was ever so glad of the counter providing her scant cover. "Me mates talk about yer pies with great pleasures."

The dirty chuckles made her skin crawl.

"Well, well, fellas, mayhaps more 'xotic fare?"

Like a hungry cur, his intentions had swung towards the quiet Phyra, a meaty hand lifting to flick the tip of an elegantly pointed ear. Faster than a snake, Phyra blurred into motion, a slivery blade flashing, a spray of blood and screaming, a burst of ear-popping energy that flung back the whole lot of them like children's toys. Like some legendary battle goddess, she bristled with menace and outrage, dust billowing through windows burst wide, Cook squawking as his fire roared high, the room's lanterns guttering as though caught in a tornado.

"How dare you! I've a mind to demand recompense for such an insult in removing your genitals, you filthy bottomfeeder!"

Anelli's instinctual terror of an enraged mage faded into glee as the young boars cringed and cowered like mice in the face of a tigress. Most of them were already scrambling for the doors, flung as open as the windows, the wounded perpetrator slow with his ravaged hand that ran red with blood. For a breathless moment, there was only their scrambling, the silent roar of sorcerous power and the whirls of dust before the menace evaporated as quickly as heat in winter. The stuck pig proved a last time to be as stupid as Anelli suspected when he paused in his shaky retreat to fire off a last insult.

"Cursed red sow!"

With a vindictive curl of lip, Phyra flicked her fingers at him, sending him rolling into the street before she turned back to the counter, rubbing furiously at the ear he had touched.

"Filthy beast," she growled and startled at Anelli's burst of delighted laughter, blinking at the smaller woman.

"Phyra, eh?" Anelli chuckled with delight. "More like fiery."

The exhausted Elf could only smile lopsidedly.


	8. Chapter 8

Torn between gratitude for running off the troublemakers and irritation at the state of his workhouse, Cook shooed them off. Luckily, the damage had been mostly cosmetic outside of some shattered glass that Phyra had promised to pay for, and a few broken timbers. Anelli would hear none of the protests that all Phyra wanted was to sleep off the shakes and sleep of a magical outburst, grabbing belt and collar to march the larger woman up the stairs.

"Hush, you. A bath and bed and a friend to watch your back will be better than the stink of horse and the dubious lullaby of the city."

"It's a perfectly nice stable, Anelli."

"It's a stable."

The throaty chuckle signaled the Elf's surrender to the bossy hands on her back and neck. That half-smile did not fade as the room key was handed over and through Anelli rifling through her things to hand over a loose shirt and short pants before a shove sent her towards the bath.

"Go on then, you smell like…"

"Stables?" Phyra laughed and dodged the playful swat. Once she had gone, Anelli sprawled back on the creaky bed and at last let the shock of the night wash over her. Bad enough those dangerous louts had given her a scare, but the show of sheer power from her mage friend had been a deep shock. Those with the magic's touch were always rare-- and rarer now after the deprivations of war-- and Anelli had never dealt with one close up before. It was intimidating and fascinating. The very self-contained aloofness Phyra maintained must be related to that power burning beneath her skin, not merely the unusualness of her race… and whatever she was really up to in this city. Despite that niggling mystery, the trust was still true; Anelli truly believed her enigmatic companion was a good one, merely skittish and secretive.

"Does Cook ever give you a day off?"

Startled at the voice, Anelli woke from a half-doze and stretched until she groaned. "I rarely ask for it, why?"

The reply was garbled for a moment, lost in a rustle of cloth.

"I've seen little of your city. I could use a guide… even enjoy one."

A day away from the Griffin? The idea was illicit and strangely appealing, despite knowing it would be difficult to set up someone to cover her duties and to accommodate the loss of coin. "Yes, I can ask for a day away."

The warm and slightly shy cast of Phyra's smile made the concession worth it. Moaning wearily, Anelli dragged herself to aching feet and tried to twist some of the stiffness from her back.

"Now that you've brought it up, Elvish, I think a day away could be good for me. Let me ask tomorrow and we'll make plans."

By the time she had done a perfunctory clean up, Anelli could barely keep her eyes open and wearily grabbed her pile of bedding where Phyra had set it at the edge of the bed. The Elven woman made a slightly startled noise when she was jostled, her dark eyes glittering in the shadows.

"Too tired to climb," Anelli slurred as she halfheartedly tossed sheet and blanket over herself. The slow blink in response made her smile and snuggle down into the awful bed. "Magic wore you out, huh?"

"It does that, yes. Like a muscle, it withers with disuse. And, like being on the shore or letting the water carry you where it will, there is little effort, but to fight the current is exhausting."

The tidbits of information settled into Anelli's mind and she reached out a lazy hand to slither under Phyra's blanket to bump against her waist. As the quiet around them lulled their minds and bodies, neither commented that the invading hand did not leave the warmth of Phyra's skin.


	9. Chapter 9

The outing had been worth the several day's wait so far; weather fair, the company better and the rental nag not bruising every bone in her body. All in all, Anelli was pleased, particularly with her vantage point astride the big horse and pressed close to Phyra's stronger body. Being a tourist in the city of her birth had been a novelty for the young woman and surprisingly entertaining. When there had been no information or stories pertaining to a location, the two had made up their own, their laughter warm in the air.

It almost offset the way so many others would look at Phyra, startled or hostile glances flicking to the pointed ears, the rusty touch of magic in her loose tresses. Part of Anelli wanted to ask how she withstood it, but she was not so naive to think there was any real answer. What choice did the Elven woman have but to solider on? It was enough to make Anelli start to glare back, for she was rarely one to heed common sense and back down first.

"Do you know that I'm quite certain that I've never asked what brought you to Godam."

Nor was she the sort to hold her tongue.

The half-smile flashed over her shoulder was affectionate, laced with the closed off melancholy that clung to her like a second skin. "I've a… draw to this place. An unspoken promise I feel the need to keep." Before Anelli could open her mouth, Phyra forced her melancholy back and her smile warmed. "And there are worse places for a veteran to end up, even one such as I."

"They're fools you know. To not see past their own stupid fears."

"You don't see me as dangerous? A feral red she-wolf? Come to lure away men and children…"

Anelli gripped the muscled midriff as tightly as she could, stopping the bitter words.

"Stop that. I won't tolerate such manure said about someone I care about."

The inky eyes were wide and startled, this time making Anelli smile fondly.

"Oh don't look so shocked, Elvish. Do you honestly think my affections are so fickle? Really, they're not. I truly do care about you."

For a crazy moment, Anelli thought Phyra was going to twist around in the saddle and kiss her. It was a heady rush of adrenaline and heat, shattered when the black eyes suddenly jerked away and went alarmed and flinty.


	10. Chapter 10

For the rest of her days, Anelli would never forget the few moments that followed Phyra's flinty look, her heartbeat loud and slow in her chest and ears. The ripple of motion between their bodies as the Elf drew a short, brutal curved sword from where it had lain hidden against her back. Anelli hadn't even noticed the blade and even as part of her marveled at the trick, she wondered what else she might not know about this enigma. The loose throng around them scattered at the ring of steel and the sudden pressure of magic gathering like a storm, armored figures melting towards them with focused intent.

If you gave in to fear, you would never stop running.

Someone had said something like that once to Anelli, the details lost to time, but she remembered the intent clearly. Without a second thought, she braced herself as best she could, locking her knees onto the dancing gelding as he fought Phyra's hard hand, drawing the long dagger that always hung at the larger woman's waist. Anelli had little skill in a fight that required more than a fist and or perhaps a random broom handle, but she would be damned to the Wastes if she didn't go down with a fight.

Several things happened all at once.

"Dag, you thrice damned son a mangy cur! I could have killed you!"

The angry words were surprisingly non-venomous and the burr of magic faded from the air even as the menacing figures halted and grinned in concert to the boom of a big man's laughing voice. "That's the spit and fire of my favorite squirrel ears!"

The insult made Anelli double-take, but Phyra's smile only deepened as one of the largest Humans the younger woman had ever seen separated from the shadows of a drafthorse and cart. He was a brute, standing a good half head taller than anyone around him, heavy with muscle, armor and weapon. Not to mention the great brush of mustache that looked to be more pet than ornament. "Phyra Getteray," he intoned with a level of adoring affection that one held family and the dearest of friends in.

"Dagith Tamthen," she replied back, just as affectionately and only Anelli's lingering alarm prevented her from squeaking in alarm at the slide of sword into scabbard as the tip slithered over her belly. The big man paused in approaching, a wry eyebrow raised.

"My apologies, Phy, I seem to have alarmed your squire." With a sweeping bow, he included the armored men that moved to stand with him. "The Mother's Stalwarts, at your service."

Phyra sighed heavily as Anelli's eyes rounded and a thousand clues she'd chosen to ignore suddenly clicked into place. She didn't give voice to the tales rattling about in her head, endless wartime braggings of clients and family as they sat around with food and drink. Who hadn't heard of the greatest sorcerer ever seen, bolstered by magics of all the intelligent peoples, even the dragons, long gone? Who hadn't heard of the woman who brought the Dragon's Heart gem to the Order of Winter, who had stood by The General's side and fought at his equal, their love tragically fated to be lost with his ultimate sacrifice.

Anelli felt very small and very overwhelmed, wracked with a childish embarrassment for her ignorance.


	11. Chapter 11

Celebrity was forever a two edged sword, both of them deadly sharp. In an instant of realization, Phyra watched a friendship dissolve before her eyes. Her own face fell at the cutting jolt of pain at the loss, the sudden dazed distance in the blue eyes of this woman she had come to rely on so much.

Perhaps too much.

"I…" Anelli tried to speak, her voice high and thin with stress. "I think I need to get home. You understand, it's been a long day and so much to do."

Even Dagith's eternal cheerfulness was flagging in the face of such obvious distress, his pale gaze flicking from one woman to the other. 

"The Griffin Inn on the north end of the docks," Phyra spoke softly, her tone flat and Dagith nodded with a tiny gesture to the other Stalwarts to hold their tongues.

"What was that about?" Asked young Pathson as the horse and his two passengers vanished into the crowd. Sighing deeply, Dagith rubbed his face and for a moment the bone-deep ache of loss struck him as deeply as that day that felt both too close and so very far away.

"The Captain was laying low and I'm pretty certain we just blew her cover with someone who matters."

They'd all gathered now, the fourteen that had braved the chaos of Godam to find their old comrade, sorely missed. None of them had even had the chance to greet her, to try for one of the beautiful Elf's rare smiles. Heaving a heavy breath, Dagith gathered himself, all business once more.

"Nothing to be done for it, lads. Come on then, danger waits for no one. She'll need to know what's going on and how we need her."

Sobered, the mercenaries fell in to trail after the woman who had long fought the natural progression of her becoming their leader.


	12. Chapter 12

The silence was deafening.

Thick and awkward, it hung like smoke, all the worse for the lack of happy chatter from Anelli. Who knew that would be so sorely missed? Her body was rigid against Phyra's back, hands utterly still where they lay lightly at her hips, tiny birds poised for panicked flight.

Words lay choked in the Elf's throat, terrified and desperate to escape.

Neither commented that Phyra did not even bother to unsaddle the gelding at the stables, merely provided him with some water before they headed indoors. No one interrupted their silent trek to Anelli's familiar room and the snick of the doorbolt seemed thunderously loud.

"You're really her then."

The quiet words made Phyra cringe where she rest her forehead against the door, unable to find the strength to turn for the moment. "Yes."

"Well then, you'll be needing your things. Let's take care of that, yes?"

Shaking, Anelli went to the things not hers that still lay tucked just to the side of the window, a neat pile she would miss as much as their mistress.

"Anelli…"

"You've only to ask Cook for a few supplies and you can eat well for a few days at least. I know he just got in some good hard hams that come cheap after the winter and fresh food is welcome."

"Anelli."

It was the touch on her back, an echo of that first night they slept close, that finally cracked her rattled composure, the sob welling up. "Dammit, Elvish, I knew you weren't doing something so mundane as scribing grimoires."

"No, I was not, and I will forever regret lying to you."

The younger woman's breath caught at the sudden and utterly unexpected weight of Phyra's head on her shoulder, the dark hair falling over her upper arm, that hand curling around the curve of her waist.

"Something about your sunny regard made me want to come back again and again, a selfishness not like me. You saw past…"

The thought remained unsaid as Anelli whipped around to glare with real heat, making Phyra jump back. "I never gave a damn about your fool ears, you idiot, or your quiet, or the shadows in your eyes!" Hugging herself, the volume of her voice dropped to a near whisper. "I feel like a fool."

"No, I…"

"You should go."

Baffled at how to fix this, to salvage anything from this sudden tension and hurt, Phyra was not proud of herself, but she grabbed her things and retreated to the bathroom to shed away the guise of ordinariness that she had indulged in for far too long. In that false normalcy, she had inadvertently hurt this friend, this ray of sunshine that had lightened the pain and isolation carried too long.

Piece by piece, Phyra stripped away the guise of the city, right down to her skin. From her things came the carefully packed travel gear, sturdy underclothes and tunic and pants and battered boots. With trembling hands she pulled out the ornate back and breastplate, the chainmail and greaves and bracers, shaken with the way they transformed her. Then came the forgotten weight of so many weapons, the quartet of swords, the lethal crossbow hanging at the heavy armored belt with its many pouches. Quickly packing her things, Phyra plaited back her hair and stared at her helmet with its deceptively delicate-looking filigrees and the upswept wings added with her bond to Tevric, her consort to his being Mother's Chosen.

How dearly she still missed his presence, lost forever to the Wastes and war none of them wanted, but had to fight nonetheless.

The sting of tears burned like acid.


	13. Chapter 13

It didn't seem real and yet somehow, made perfect sense. So many odd little things about Phyra, about the niggle of familiarity of her last name, the overpowering press of her magics. At least Anelli had been right about that power being unusual. Why the deception felt so... personal, was something she did not have a good answer for.

When Phyra stepped from the bathroom, the transformation was breathtaking. She was no less lovely or striking, but the trappings of the warrior and the changes wrought on her body language were startling. But that haughty danger did not take away from the dark pain in her black eyes. 

The silence between them was deafening.

When the tension became too much, Anelli tore her gaze away and turned to grab the travel pack, holding it up like an offering. As though they had done this a thousand times, Phyra jammed in her things and turned so that the smaller woman could settle the straps into the grooves in the armor's shoulders. Smoothing her hands over the cool metal and warm fabric, Anelli again turned away to gather up the loose sacks and hand them over. The gauntlets that closed over her hands creaked faintly as the tiny scales slid around Phyra's knuckles and the smooth leather of her palms were warm and soft.

"I am sorry, Anelli."

The soft words were heavy with regret, a parting before she left the familiar space forever. The choking lump in Anelli's throat blocked words and nearly breath and the tears burned. All she could do was nod jerkily, drawing away in some desperate attempt to calm herself, sinking to the bed to bury her face in her hands.

There was barely a whisper of sound as the striking Elven woman walked out of her life, the door clicking quietly and light footsteps fading away into the Griffin Inn's hum of noise. The sob that tore at Anelli's throat hurt on a visceral level and she threw herself onto the horrible bed, startling to find a warm blue blanket not hers. It made her sob harder, balling the cloth to her face and she whispered to her friend.

"Be safe, Elvish."


	14. Chapter 14

Self-pity took it out of a girl.

And Anelli wasn't that sort of girl.

Regret was a weight that could break a spirit, sink it like a stone in water and Anelli didn't want that for herself. Scrambling from the bed, she scrubbed her eyes even as she locked up behind herself and fled to the common room. But there was no dramatic figure in travel clothes, bristling with weapons and armor, making Anelli's heart sank again.

"Jus' missed 'er," Cook grunted as he stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his massive hands on his apron. "Same that. Like that one I did."

"Me too, Cook. Me too."

"Left ahind them fellas."

Typical Cook, man of few words that he was and he nodded his grizzled head to one of the tables. Two men sat there with the remnants of a huge meal between them. Somehow Anelli wasn't surprised to find the larger figure to be the same bear of a man she had not quite met earlier. His smile was welcoming, but distinctly sad.

"Ah, there you are. Good. I found myself curious about you."

No matter the sheer scale of him or his rough appearance, there was no mistaking the gleam of intelligence in his pale eyes as he studied her face. He was a strange blend of warmth and mercenary coldness that left Anelli uncomfortable yet feeling oddly safe. For a moment the two humans eyed one another in silent conversation before Dagith looked away first. Anelli jumped when one of her fellow servers handed her a cup of hot blackbark and the smaller man in the booth slid over in silent invitation should she wish to sit.

"I hardly know why you'd be curious about me."

The bitterness in her voice made her wince as she settled to the bench and sipped at the brew. 

"I'd truly thought you were Phy's squire," Dagith mused as he sipped his own mug and watched the fidgeting young woman. "Shame, that," he added conversationally and her attention focused, watching him closely. There was no fear in her alert gaze and her expression was almost neutral. It was a good start for a city girl and Dagith trusted his gut. "I really thoughts she'd found someone to watch her back. Needs someone like that. Someone to see past the legends and armor and the ears." Gesturing vaguely, he searched for the right words. "She doesn't… bond."

That didn't match up with the quietly warm woman Anelli had grown to care about. "She bonded with me just fine."

"We noticed," Dagith said with a smile Anelli didn't quite understand but it left her torn, confused and suffused with a dizzy hope. Yet she still hesitated even as the two men set out coin and stood to gather their cloaks and hats. 

"She has you."

Dagith's chuff of laughter was not what Anelli had expected. Nor the undercurrent of pain there.

"No, Spitfire, she has a unit of soldiers that forever remind her of the General. Subordinate soldiers she holds at arm's length because we're caught up in the same military mindset. Sure, we've earned some familiarity, but she's not the warm and fuzzy sort. Besides, a commanding officer ought to at least have a squire, if not someone closer than that. Damn stubborn, that woman. Probably wouldn't let you stay anyway."

Be it his gentle arguments or the nickname, somehow he'd finally raised her ire enough to knuckle down. Had she not just yesterday worried over growing old in this place? Of becoming like Cook and Missus, their task becoming their very identities? Suddenly, out of the blue, an opportunity straight from the deities had been dropped in her lap, terrifying and euphoric. The baffled, conflicted need in Phyra had been real, Anelli would stake her life in it. For all the tales and legends and the firestorm of magic surrounding the Elven woman, something in Anelli had called to her.

Patiently, Dagith waited while the slip of a girl went through her mental battle, chewing her lip and bright blue eyes turned inward. Then he smiled slowly as she focused, near-glaring up at him in fierce determination. "The general's squire you say?"

"Aye. The position's not entirely unlike a private, same pay and protections. You'll be trained in soldiery skills and company behaviors, but your responsibilities will be minimal to the unit. Your primary duty is to ease the Captain's burdens, particularly as she's a mage. She wouldn't be a hardship to care for."

That last comment was a double entendre not accidentally done. Phyra had been gutted to leave the girl and the reverse looked to be true. No matter that his company captain had loved the man that once led them, she was growing a new heart to love again. Good, Tevric would not wanted her to hold back from living to the fullest.

With a deep, bracing breath, the girl stood, drawing herself to her full height and looked him in the face. "Would you sponsor me, sir?"

"I'd be honored. What's your name then, squire?"

"Anelliana Gimarian."

"Welcome to the Mother's Stalwarts."


	15. Chapter 15

The poor gelding was so nervous that Phyra couldn't bear to inadvertently torture him any longer. Yes, returning him to his stable and renting a hack with a driver was far more expensive, but it was worth it. Frankly, her concentration was miserable anyway.

Why had she not said anything? Why had she walked away like a coward? Why did her heart ache as though she'd lost a loved one yet again?

Circular and neurotic, her thoughts raced as she was transported to the northeast gate where she handed over her coin and took to foot. The physical push and pull of the exercise was a reminder that she had been city bound for far too long. But she had needed the time to let her heart mend from the soul-draining war and love lost. Now she had more regrets, Anelli's anguished face emblazoned in her mind. Who knew a simple random encounter with a stranger could change her so much; but was not love always like that? It took effort to once again swallow down tears and simply put one foot in front of the other.

A cheery hail thankfully broke into her morass of jumbled thoughts and brought her head around to spot the unit's camp beside the road. Something in the very familiarity of the campsite eased the ache in her throat and heart, a smile blooming over her face. There were a wealth of smiles and a roar of welcome from the gathering of faces, only a few missing since her taking leave of them. Phyra quickly estimated there were some bare hundred of them, but riding beasts enough for at least three hundred, a solid number for a crack unit that functioned as this one did. Good, they had remained strong while she had been away. No soldiery crew should be reliant on too few of their numbers, no matter how powerful or talented. The rest were doubtlessly in Godam for recreation and would return whenever Dagith had instructed them to be.

The throng descended, nearly overwhelming Phyra, hands thumping her affectionately, pulling away her things to be stowed, many voices raised in a babble of welcome. These were the foot soldiers, the hard-working men and women who were the strong backs and sword arms of the outfit, the officers off running errands. The enthusiasm they showed warmed the heartsick Elf and she was happy to be drawn to the central fire to be warmed by the mundane magic of flame and good company.


	16. Chapter 16

"Feels like some sort of dowry."

The dry humor made Dagith laugh and clap the new squire on the back so that she staggered deeper into the dusty space. The quietly intense effusiveness that had been shown by the Inn's proprietors had strengthened his gut impressions of young Anelli, that she inspired affection and loyalty in others. Good. That coupled with the strong will and alertness he'd already seen in her would indeed make her a worthy addition to their ranks. The Stalwarts were too small a unit to take on anyone on a whim, a fact that had caused troubles at times. They needed to be streamlined and professional to stay in business. There was no place for hangers on, no matter who they were.

The wagon would be an interesting addition to the unit. Running his hands over the dusty wood and rocking the heavy frame as hard as he could was proof enough to Dagith that the vehicle was surprisingly sound for its obvious age.

"Your Cook has maintained this beast well over the years," he mused and clambered up to yank away the tarps protecting the horizontal surfaces. "This is quite the gift."

Anelli was still reeling with it, truth be told. The overwhelming emotional response of Cook and Missus to her leaving had quite overwhelmed the young woman. The sense of family she'd felt for the old couple ever since they had saved her from a life on the streets had always been even more mutual than she had realized. The hugs and tears and warm words had been proof enough, but then Cook had been insistent that she take his old war wagon, sitting in careful storage since the first of the Great Sorcerous Wars and the man's most prized possession.

"Ain't no children of me own, 'Nelli. Take it and let it keep ya safe."

There had been no arguing with the fatherly gravity in his eyes and in his rough voice and tight, unexpected hug.

Dagith poked and prodded at the wagon, making thoughtful sounds as he climbed over it and circled around. With a great heave of sheer strength, he lurched the thing clean off its blocks with a crash of sound that made her jump and cough in the dust.

"Kick away those blocks, Squirrel, and let's push this into the courtyard. You can wrangle the yoke and I'll push."

Amused by his penchant for monikers, Anelli smiled despite her emotional conflict. "Aye."

The thing was heavy and Anelli staggered beneath the weight of the yoke that the beasts would push against while Dagith pitted his great strength against the bulk of the wagon. Sunlight showed that the vehicle was a handsome hack with smaller wheels fore that would slip beneath the frame for a tight turn and a narrowish body that flared out over the large rear wheels. It was darkly stained and showed faded signs of units and soldiers from the past.

"The leather will need replacing before we can weigh her down properly, but the iron looks sound. We'll need to pick up grease on our way out as well for all the joints and gears and the like. And your Cook is a damn smart fella! Look at this, the replacement parts and tools are still bellied in this thing! Quite the gift indeed."

While Dagith fawned over the vehicle, Anelli found herself looking up the walls of the Griffin Inn, the only home she had known in many years. Strangely, she found herself thinking of the family she had been born to and had left behind to make her own way. It had been a very long time.

Then the other Stalwarts arrived with rental mules to get the wagon to the market where it could be properly kitted out with beasts of burden and it was time for Anelli to leave the safety and familiarity of the Griffin and begin this new adventure both terrifying and welcome.


	17. Chapter 17

Watching the preparation for life on the road was an education for Anelli. While the rental team drew the wagon, Dagith pawed out every scrap of wood and iron and tattered canvas, forcing Anelli to shove her things beneath the driver's seat for protection. There were uprights and crossbeams that would support a cover to envelope the entire cargo area and neat, tight boxes of spare parts and tools that stored beneath or well to the front out of the way and benches that dropped down on squeaking hinges. A barrel of good oil and some effort would quiet the endless racket of squeaks and nourish the fine old wood

Anelli watched in amazement as the soldiers hoisted up each corner to cut away leather strapping rendered useless by time and quickly wound in new to absorb the endless shocks of travel. Reins and traces and a seeming endless array of straps were replaced with competent hands. The soldiers paid little heed to the new girl, merely answering questions and setting her to cleaning until she learned new tasks. Scut work was no stranger to Anelli, though being the new kid would take some getting used to, particularly as she was fairly certain two of the soldiers were younger than she.

Meanwhile Dagith and a hard-faced woman from the Stalwarts haggled with deadly seriousness before handing over enough gold to widen the new recruit's blue eyes. Finally a team of four big warmbloods were lashed carefully to the yokes and another four trailed behind. Again, the soldiers scattered with terse orders and Anelli was left with her benefactor and the old wagon amidst the crowds.

"What's on your mind?"

For a long moment she hesitated, trying not to broadcast frayed nerves, but jumped when Dagith prodded her with a friendly elbow.

"Your fear and nerves are normal, Sunny. This is a huge change and quickly done. You've little time to take it all in and there is so much more to absorb. Each of us went through this and if there are any that give you a hard time, you tell me and they'll feel the back of my hand."

The speech eased much of the fear choking her and Anelli breathed deeply and fired him a small smile. "Thank you. The reality of this is only just really sinking in."

"Second thoughts?"

"Many. But you're stuck with me anyway."

His laughter was delighted.


	18. Chapter 18

As the wagon dawdled its way across the sprawling city, soldiers would materialize with various goods, sometimes carried and sometimes aboard smaller rental carts. Dagith would remove a battered little book from his shirt pocket and listen to the soldier report while he added painstakingly tiny notes to the pages and sent them off again with further instructions. A second wagon fell in as they approached the east end of the docks, Anelli startling when she realized they were in the red light district. Her expression made Dagith roar with mirth.

"Don't look so shocked! No regiment worth their sword and shield travels without entertainment. We're not here for the sole purpose of collecting the captain."

At a decent-looking working house, Dagith reined in the team and waited for a very large Troll guard to lumber over to enquire after their business. With the briefest of exchanges, a serious-faced woman, soft of body and not quite of matronly age, led out a strikingly tall, golden-haired young woman and a darkly-hired man with the strangest limp, all of them weighted down with bags and a single, large trunk.

"Good day, Lieutenant Tamthen," the older woman greeted Dagith with aloof politeness and he tipped his battered helm.

"Lady Rose."

A nod sent Anelli scurrying to help them with the trunk, trading small smiles with the younger pair. There was nothing unusual about them, in dress or manner to separate them from anyone else in the caravan except they, like Anelli herself, were not soldiers. A conventionally handsome fellow lingered at the door of the house, expression sour. With a low chuckle, the male courtesan handed up his coworker even as he leaned conspiratorially towards Anelli. "He's jealous I beat him out for this choice plum."

There was certainly no shame in their business unless one needed a worthless hobby of intolerance, but the very matter-of-fact interaction of these very specific hirelings was new for Anelli. Still, service was service she supposed, be it prepared food or carnal companionship.

Interestingly, the man made no gesture to help Anelli climb aboard the big wagon, hauling himself awkwardly after the blonde woman and their things. Definitely something unusual with that left leg.

"Jump to it, Mouseling!"

Dagith's shout spurred Anelli into moving as the wagon lurched into motion and she was forced to scramble. From that stop, the wall loomed large nearby, the gate a distant opening. As they moved towards that sunny opening in the wall, the traffic grew thicker and more diverse. So much so that Anelli took some time to realize that her wagon had become part of an extensive train. Not just the full three wagons both fore and aft, but the crowd of men and women that subtly stood out amidst the crowd. They moved in a different way, an economy of motion, an awareness of their surroundings, a sense of coiled tension she remembered from Phyra. 

The thought of the beautiful Elf made Anelli's guts dance with nerves all over, a sensation compounded by the vast gates looming large until they passed beneath the very lintel that marked the boundary of Godam proper. Then, with no fanfare, the wagon was beyond the gate and continuing to move with traffic down the massive thoroughfare. Anelli had never been out of sight of these walls on the outside before; and even those small forays had been seldom. As they moved with the endless traffic in and out of the busy city, she could not help but to crane her neck and watch her home fall away. Dagith was quiet, leaving her to sort her own thoughts and feelings as she would.


	19. Chapter 19

As the crowding gradually broke up, Anelli began to notice just how many soldiers had fallen in with the four wagons. Whereas they had straggled about in the crowds, they naturally fell into neat lines about the lumbering wagons, their training showing despite their civilian garb. They chatted among themselves, few paying Anelli passing curiosity if any at all. Frankly, it wasn't much different than the life she was leaving behind, an unimportant cog in the machinery of a larger group. At least amidst these soldiers she might be able to make her own way, forge her own strengths and fate.

"Come on then, Anelli," Dagith's now familiar voice was a comfort in the strangeness and she followed as he jumped down from the wagon. "Stay close and we'll start getting you familiar with camp life."

It was the first time he'd used her name and she smiled tremulously, feeling very small and overwhelmed at the chaos around her. The soldiery were a raucous mass of voices and colors and shapes and sizes with no pattern, at least not an easily discernible one. In the evening dimness, Anelli hadn't even noticed that they had indeed entered a camp, tents looming in the dimness, horses stomping and whickering on long picket lines, fires sputtering to life to ward off the closing chill.

"Things will settle soon. The end of three days furlough are always a mess and Godam only makes it so much worse. The drunks will roll in all night and into the dawn. I pity the fools that run late and are left behind. They face a brutal walk and the wrath of the Captain at the end of it."

He didn't sound fearful of said wrath, but alight with malicious glee, as though looking forward to the spectacle. Anelli made a note to never return late to the Mother's Stalwarts.

"Now, let's find you a place to keep busy until we're underway."

Unsurprisingly, Anelli found herself herded off to the cook tent even as some of the unit were dropping the rolled up walls against the cold. What did shock her was recognizing the tall figure holding court over the simmering cauldrons and baking ovens.

"Jhedvin!" Dagith crowed in clear delight. "Am I glad to see you! The food has been a misery without your deft touch!"

"Of course," he said dryly and gave the burlier man a glare when it appeared some of his hard work might go missing. "A new recruit I assume?"

It was only then that Anelli realized the tall Elf did not recognize her.

"Indeed. Now, Sparrow, Jhed here will make sure you find a spot to bunk and I'll see you at the wagon tomorrow."

With a heavy clout, Dagith strode out, leaving Anelli both exasperated and bereft. 

"Sparrow is it?" Jhedvin asked dryly and Anelli sighed.

"Yes, that will do for now. How may I assist you, cook?"


	20. Chapter 20

While part of Phyra wanted to fuss over who was accounted for, there was no sorting the unruly mob that was the Mother's Stalwarts this night. Come morning, the individual squads would take a headcount and report to one of the three commanding officers. Until then, best to eat and catch up with some familiar faces and wait for the night to pass.

"Phy! My old bucket of sass! 'Bout damn time you threw away the civilian life!"

Only two souls dared speak to her in such a way and she had already seen Dagith. Both were idiots, but she loved them like brothers, that thought obvious on her face when she turned. 

"Hardrasken. You should talk of civilian life."

For a long moment, the two mages merely grinned at one another, the reunion darkened with memories neither would ever shake. Then he stepped close and wrapped her in a crushing hug she willingly returned. Theirs was a strange bond, as opposite as two people could be, yet bound through shared experiences and the love for a man they both desperately missed.

"Good to have you back, heart-sister."

"Thank you, heart-brother."

Centuries ago, the details lost to time, rouges and rebels of many races took to the desert continent to the south to live by their own rules. From them came The Consolidated Tribes of the Furnace Sands, a peoples baked dark and lean and ruthless by their hard desert home. Endless tribal war and the very environment had ensured they were intelligent and tough as leather, hints of their mixed racial heritage obvious in their exotic looks, though the Human in them was certainly the strongest. 

"So what is so urgent that Dagith and the rest of the most experienced Stalwarts came hounding me in Godam?"

Even as Hardrasken opened his mouth to speak, the flap of the command tent was flung back and the big man in question strode in. "I came looking for you, old friend, because we've found stragglers."

Stunned, Phyra sank onto a nearby bench, rattling the map-strewn table beside it. "Then Tevric's sacrifice was for naught?"

Her voice was faint, distraught, skin gone ashen beneath her naturally dusky coloring. Both men flinched as well, for even speaking Tevric's name still hurt.

"No, his sacrifice could never be in vain," Dagith forced his voice to be strong and sure. "The portal remains closed, the mountain of ice the cork in the bottle. But there are more of the dread, foul things left behind than we believed." Sitting across from Phyra, he shuffled the maps and began pointing out locations. "Until a few months ago, we were simply rooting out the survivors and burning their corpses to keep them from rotting their surroundings. But someone--"

"Or something," Hardrasken muttered darkly.

"Or something, has been drawing the forsaken invaders to the north."

Phyra's confusion chased back some of her pain and she eyed the two men for a long moment. Something in their matching expressions told her that she would not like the truth of Dagith's words and it hit her like a ton of bricks, black eyes gone wide.

"Holy Deities, you mean here in Amere…"

"Aye."

"But… but how did they cross the ocean? Those creatures despise water!"

More sober than she had seen him since Tevric's death, Hardrasken nodded and hugged himself tightly. "And yet, they are here. No one needs to point out the devastation that could be wrought if they gain a foothold in this rich place."

Rich in space and food and a population so massive that the army raised from the corruption would be unstoppable.

The horror of it made Phyra numb.


	21. Chapter 21

Distracted by the devastating news, Phyra barely noted Dagith jump up urgently and return a moment later with a tray of Jhedvin's good cooking. Guts roiling with stress over the news, she could barely eat, but forced some down before reaching for a heavy wineskin. Frankly, she needed the liquid courage this night. If the forsaken creatures who had invaded their world twice now had figured out how to leave the continent of her birth and come here to the Human lands, what else might they figure out?

As much as she wanted to fret over the problem, pick it apart and figure it out, she did not have the resources or time at this stage. Once alone in the big command tent to settle in for the night, she nursed a skin of mead and selfishly indulged in a deep bout of depressed discomfiture. This role of leader was not a perfect fit, the shadow of the man who had left them was a large one and still haunted her.

"Oh Tevric, what am I doing?" she murmured brokenly and let only a few tears escape. On low days she wondered what it would be like to be an ordinary soul, able to let go without fear of leveling half the forest or getting hundreds killed. The magic burned hot and painful beneath her skin. 

Come morning, she jerked away still in her chair, the heavy armor having pressed itself into more than one soft spot and leaving her left leg half numb. Hung over more with choked magics than the mead, she staggered into the dimness of the pre-dawn to find the camp half dismantled. It was a relief to see that the Mother's Stalwarts still functioned as a well-oiled machine without either her or Tevric. The nagging sadness was offset by the company third in command suddenly appearing with a fine specimen of warhorse in hand. Maget Holt was a serious and alert woman whose good looks in no way offset her sheer competence. Phyra had idly wondered where she'd been keeping herself.

"Captain," Maget greeted somberly and handed over the reins. "Good to have you home. This is Tahrah. I've been holding onto him for you. No one else could handle a whole stallion with a bit of fairy blood in him."

"Tahrah, eh? Pleased to meet you, good sir. Shall we?"

He whuffled Phyra's scent into flared nostrils as she sketched a shallow bow. One never knew how fairy blood would manifest and it was always a good idea to start with polite respect and work from there. Deciding the mage was acceptable, he breathed all over her upturned face before snorting wetly.

"Thank you," she complained mildly and scrubbed her sleeve over the mess. Damned if that throaty horse noise didn't sound like a chuckle.

With the babble of voices and the clatter of horse sounds, the camp collapsed and was sorted into tiny bundles to be stashed in the circle of wagons. Idly watching, Phyra sat in the too-large saddle on Tahrah's too-broad back and idly walked him around the edges of the controlled chaos. It was more getting to know the horse and the changes in the Stalwarts than actual supervision. Luckily for her rattled composure, her sensitive Elven eyes and the rising dawn let her realize just what she sat on before she really had to face her troops.

Tevric's saddle.

Someone-- Maget most likely-- had altered some of the straps and trim, but there was no mistaking it. With an abrupt twist in said saddle, Phyra dreaded seeing the oversized bedroll strapped there, for Tevric had been a large man… and she had often been with him. Small mercy, it was a plain roll of blue cloth, much better proportioned to her than the former owner. The bulky saddlebags looked relatively new as well and Phyra didn't need to check them to know they would be heavy with a good, solid survival kit and trail rations. Only a fool assumed they would never be separated from their fellows and their supplies.

She'd foolishly left her personal things in the command tent and they would now be stashed away with the rest of the gear in there. At least she'd never taken off her blades and was fully armed, though she needed to find a decent shield. When they made camp at dusk, she would check the stores. Remembering all the day to day things of being a traveling soldier would take some mental retraining, but she had managed just fine during war and could do it again.

Then again, she had never been fully in command before, not this fully. The pressure of going from the Consort of Mother's Chosen to leader, coupled with the pain of losing the man she loved had driven her away to isolation in the first place. While she was far stronger now than then, she would need to figure out all the pressures back on her.

Suddenly the camp was ready to go, the change in mood unmistakable, and Phyra coaxed Tahrah to head for the front. With a stallion's arrogance, he was eager to comply, head high, hooves ringing on the worn cobblestones. There was nothing so blatant as a call to movement, just the wagons falling into single file and the soldiers positioning themselves around them. Thus began their journey away from Godam and into the unknown


	22. Chapter 22

The first day was an education for Anelli, one mostly through silent observation. She sat quietly in the front of the wagon beside the silent fellow that had been eating dinner with Dagith at the Inn. Turns out his name was Ita Paga and that extent he had spoken to her. Normally, such taciturn company might have aggravated her, but her mind and heart were so conflicted that she welcomed the bubble of quiet isolation in the crowd. While the lands close in to Godam were still more a sprawling extension of the city thus far, the walled place of her birth fell away further and further with every mile. 

It was as though she were being physically torn away, shaken with the audacity of what she had embarked on. Even the dank, grey weather reflected her mood, thunder grumbling in the distance and the rain cold where it trickled down the oilslicker cloak and oversized pants Dagith had dropped by. There had been a satchel with them, a sturdy, worn leather shape halfway between a messenger bag and a backpack. It had both shoulder and a waist strap and sat narrow and close down her spine. It was heavy and compact and Dagith had looked at her with grave seriousness as he handed it over from atop his horse.

"Do not let this out of your sight and keep it on whenever you can. It may save your life one day."

Baffled, she did as ordered and noted that every member of the outfit wore something not unlike it. Later, she would explore the bag to find out what was so important about its contents.

Lunch was simple, good, flaky bread and a portion of cheese fresh enough that Anelli was guessing was not normal road food. Weak, sweet ale warmed her belly in the chill without dulling her senses, but stress and a poor night sleep conspired with the food, drink and road motion to try and lull her to sleep. She'd been too wound up for breakfast of blackbark in the pre-dawn heading out and it was one more thing that had her swaying alarmingly in her seat. Eventually, Ita grunted at her to climb into the back and nap for a bit. Feeling weak and useless, Anelli nonetheless obeyed, grateful for the fresh canvas stretch taut over the wooden struts that had lain stored for years in the wagon's belly. It was easy to find a pile of heavy rope to wedge her small bulk into and curl up beneath the cloak to trap her own body heat.

The odd lurching of the wagon woke her later, blinking in the unexpected near-darkness. When no one collected her, she merely sat in the wagon, stripped of its horses, and watched the camp materialize from the bustle. It was fascinating to witness dozens of large tents appear, a string of roaring fires come to life, horses picketed and tended to. It also made Anelli feel desperately alone, separated from everything familiar and the enigmatic woman who had drawn her here.

"Greetings, Squire," came a quiet, shy call that made Anelli jump and nearly fall from her perch. The young man beside the wagon, half in shadow, flinched away, but gamely kept his smile, albeit with a nervous edge now. He was boyishly good looking to the point of being adorable as a puppy but was so painfully young he made even Anelli feel old. "Dogbone, I mean, Dagith, asked if I would bring your livery and introduce myself."

"Dogbone?" she heard herself asked with amused incredulity and the boy grinned with more backbone suddenly. "Is nicknaming a thing that I'm unaware of?"

"It's a familiarity among some of us, yes. I'm Than Arsan, but everyone calls me…"

As he grabbed the edge of the seat and hauled himself closer, eager as the puppy she'd mentally compared him to, he rose up into the light cast by the fires and glow-stone hung from poles and tree branches about the camp. As plain as the grin fading away into a bitter wince, was the close-shorn ruff of bright, rusty red hair. Instantly feeling badly for her startle at meeting yet another mage, Anelli reached out to grab his tunic front and prevent his escape. Eyes wide, he absorbed her warmest smile with a desperation that she instantly recognized as a soul too accustomed to rejection.

"Anelli Gimarian. Dagith-- Dogbone, I'll have to remember that-- gives me a new name every time he addresses me, so we'll have to wait to see what sticks."

The lad, Than, remained still in the grip on his tunic, hesitantly looking hopeful. "Anelli. Pleased to meet you. Yeah, a name can take some time."

"Understandable. Livery you said?"

"Oh, yes, of course, here. Nothing too formal, but sturdy and warm."

The wool was dense enough to be nearly felt, soft with age and use but with plenty of life left in it. Shaking out the military-cut jacket, Anelli noted it would easily hang over her pelvis and the sleeves could be untied in warmer weather. The trousers matched the colors and cut, as long in the leg as the thick collar was high on the jacket. There were also a wrinkled bundle of shirts and leggings in sturdy, age-soft linen

"These are marvelous, thank you, Than. Though I'll need to take in some of the fabric. Or at least cinch it up here and there."

Than wasn't a bulky lad, though he had lean muscle to him enough, and they shared a commiserating smile for their mutual willowy builds. "I know what you mean."


	23. Chapter 23

As Anelli found her personal things undisturbed in the tool boxes of the wagon, she was able to raid the rope stores and hang her beloved hammock and find some comfort in the familiarity. Her guts were raw with hunger, but she was still feeling to raw to wander out amidst the troops on her own. Her new companion had been drawn away with a bellow of 'Thinky' some time ago, revealing the nickname her balk had interrupted earlier.

Three mages in the group, for she'd seen another man today amidst the crowd riding alongside Jhedvin, the cook and Phyra's companion from the city. It was all very confusing, but there would be time to figure out who everyone was and what they meant to one another.

"Hey, sleepy bunny," Dagith's voice laughed beyond the canvas and Anelli had to smile despite herself. The silly names made her feel included somehow.

"Yes, Dogbone?" she answered sweetly and laughed when she heard him mutter, 'traitor' and a squawk of protest in response.

"I've dinner and time. Will you be needin' either?"

"Yes, of course, come in."

Somehow she wasn't surprised that the companion who had objected wordlessly turned out to be Than, once more smiling shyly as he climbed in behind the larger man. The bowl in Dagith's hands smelled amazing and Anelli sat up in the hammock to accept it. "Thank you, sir. I'm not normally the sort to shy away from company, but…"

Not knowing exactly how to put her mixed feelings into words, she dug into the fine chicken stew and greedily accepted the pair of fresh rolls offered.

"It's your first day, it's to be expected. Tomorrow, we'll get you walking for some miles to get you used to it. Can you ride?"

"Moderately at best."

"We'll get on that and weapons training as well."

"I'll be ready. Thank you for the clothes, they're the finest things I've ever worn, no matter they're second hand. They were Phyra's, yes?"

"How did you guess?"

Grinning mysteriously, Anelli only shrugged at Dagith's faint consternation and returned to her meal. It had been a wild guess at the body shape pressed into the felted wool, the deep blue color with its faded scarlet piping, a faint scent forever trapped in the material. After a few long moments, she spoke again

"Are you deliberately hiding me from her?"

Both men were nonplussed by the blunt question and Anelli continued to eat hungrily as she waited. Both of them looked guilty and uncomfortable and Anelli's surprise went only as far as how Than was involved in the conspiracy.

"I've no love of deceiving her," Dagith began slowly, choosing his words with care. "She's been through too much. My fear is that she'll force you away, to return to that city and not just deprive you of opportunity, but herself of companionship."

Anelli had surmised as much, but was gratified to hear it said out loud. Belly no longer growling so loudly, she slowed in her eating and nodded.

"Very well, I accept the reasons for the deception, even though we all know she will not be happy at the end of it."

"I'll take responsibility for that, have no fear."

"And that is appreciated, but I think we both know that her ire will most likely fall less discriminately than that."

There was little to add to that sober statement.


	24. Chapter 24

That night, Phyra dreamed.

Much was familiar, the morass of memories that forever haunted her; mother, assassinated for political gain too young, father cold and demanding of his only child, the ravages of wars that had broken so many, too many. The stolen Dragon's Heart, hot enough in her hands to almost burn, her own screams echoing Tevric's as the unearthly power leeched from the stone, through her and into him. His luminous smile as they lay sprawled in the aftermath of the ritual that had remade him.

That same luminous smile when he had said goodbye, that big hand gentle on her jaw, fingertips grazing her exquisitely sensitive ear, that final, gentle kiss forever burned in her memory, a more mundane magic.

The jumbled memories faded to darkness, somehow warmer than the times before, a comfort rather than the endless pain of mourning the man she had loved so dearly. 'Go on, love,' she could almost hear him whisper. 'You must live again.'

Jerking awake, Phyra was unsurprised by the tears on her cheeks, her heart racing and ear burning with the memory of his touch and the breath of words against her skin. With no chance for further sleep and reawakening road skills telling her dawn was close, she sat at the edge of the camp bed with its rope frame and heavy rugs cradling her weight, blankets warm and thick. Truth be told, she hated it, the comfort of it after so many moons of scant comfort in Godam. Unbidden, Anelli came to mind, the winning smile, the generosity of her home and heart. She would have loved this bed after the monstrosity in her room at the Griffin Inn.

Perhaps there was a hammock in stores that could give her easier sleep.

Taking the time to careful inventory her things, Phyra reworked her survival pack and slung it on. At least today she would feel less naked and vulnerable with it on. At the flap of the tent, she jumped in surprise as Tahrah whuffled in her face.

"Mother and Beast, you brute," she hissed in admiring irritation. "How did you get off your picket?"

Tahrah snorted in arrogant dismissal of the idea and began sniffing her over, clearly looking for a treat.

"No, get your face out of the pack. I'll find you something to chew. Come."

As a mage, she was unconcerned about the horse's clear intelligence perhaps being a bit… odd. If there had been more to it, her arcane gift would have warned her immediately. Quietly returning a few soft greetings from those on last watch, Phyra strode around the camp in a great loop to get a feel for mood and morale while the soldiery were still mostly at rest. Just beginning to stir with the promise of pre-dawn, they remained settled and calm, flares of carnal energies hot and bright here and there, the pleasures not carrying to her sensitive ears. A flash of warm light from the courtesan's tent drew her eye as the doorway slipped open for a moment to release the staggering soldier into the darkness. The throaty woman's laugh that briefly escaped the break in the silencing magics woven into the canvas reinforced the calm of the camp and the indicator glowstone at the entryway shifted from yellow to green. That too was a good sign, for the stone ought to be green this time of morning, not the red of the courtesans all being occupied or the yellow of a full complement lazing about in the central room of the big tent. Relaxation and recreation were as important to morale as duty and training, but camp would be breaking soon and all hands needed to be busy at things other than pleasure.

The cook tent was bustling with activity and Jhedvin squawked wordlessly in prissy outrage that left Phyra nonplussed for a moment until she realized that Tahrah had shoved in right behind her.

"Really?"

The look of haughty abashment on his equine face was quite hilarious as he carefully backpeddled just the edge of the tentflaps to wait. Phyra hid her grin until she turned away and shook her head; she would have to thank Maget for her as always excellent eye for what a person truly needed.

"Good morning, Jhedvin," she greeted her fellow Elf and grinned wider at his outraged glare towards the big stallion. "Don't mind him, we're still getting to know one another."

"Wasn't he black just yesterday?"

Pausing her perusal of the barrel of apples, Phyra glanced back to where Tahrah waiting at the edge of the light cast by the cook tent. "Is he not still?"

"I suppose my sensitivity to colors is playing tricks on me. You do plan on eating more than just that, do you not?"

"I will return, you have my word," Phyra chuckled as she chose an apple and crunched a massive bite out of it. It was ambitious, almost making her choke on the juice, but she managed it, holding out the rest for Tahrah to gobble up greedily. "Now, off with you to eat a proper breakfast, my handsome friend."

Snorting an apple-scented breath over her offered face, Tahrah did as she bid and walked off towards the awakening ranks of horses.


	25. Chapter 25

They became the hardest days of Anelli's young life.

It all bled into a morass of watery sunshine and chilly, black nights, of a light staff clacking against another and the weight of a sturdy wooden sword and the drag of shield, the movements of offense and defense began to write themselves into her body. There were steadily increasing hours of walking that made her legs and back burn, weight added in growing increments to the pack that sat solidly on shoulders and hip, the stretch of a horse between her legs making her thighs burn and her skin to chafe.

But… but it finally began to unrelentingly rewrite her into something that would fit more closely to those around her.

As her body adapted, she began to learn the rhythms of the Mother's Stalwarts and how they operated. As the force of three hundred and twenty-four at full compliment and nearly four hundred horses traversed their route, they were a hungry crew but ate notably well. Small squads would range out every day, usually returning by nightfall with game or domesticated stock in hand, dead or alive, in addition to grains and fruit and vegetables. It turned out the squads would perform whatever tasks farms and villages and towns needed in exchange for foodstuffs. One group came back after a full week, hauling nearly a dozen head of cattle and enough rich bacon to make them the company heroes and still alight with exhaustion and merriment with tales of rebuilding an entire bridge nearly on their own.

While it didn't suit Anelli, she remained a quiet rabbit at the outskirts and in the shadows. She was still feeling out her place in the company, who she could trust and whose eyes lingered too long. She was also completely caught up in avoiding Phyra, wracked with fear and guilt from it. Cowardice was a bitter taste in her mouth that only grew as the days rolled by. Phyra had left her behind with nary a word, but with no malice either, though it had been made very clear that Anelli had no place in this, her real world. Yet, that is exactly what Anelli was determinedly doing, carving herself a place she could not be pried from and doing it on her own merits.

The idyll of anonymity would have to break eventually.

Her regular sparring partner was Than as he was good enough with weapons suited to a smaller stature to assist with her basic training, but not so large an opponent to make the task more difficult than it needed to be. Soon, she would need to pit herself against opponents who would almost invariably be larger than her small stature, but she was still building speed and strength. In the nearly two weeks the Stalwarts had traveled from Godam, the weather had begun turning truly cold and Anelli was forced to deal with the bulk of winter gear in addition to the usual trappings of being a soldier.

"Come on, Brighteyes," Dagith bellowed with more amusement than irritation as she staggered back under a hard hit that made her helmet ring around her ears. "Stop holding back. You need your weight to flow behind every move, Child knows you haven't an ounce to spare!"

"Well and good for you to say, you great, noisy bear," she muttered darkly, earning a chuckle from the nameless soldier who casually braced her stagger before giving her a shove between the shoulders back into the loose ring. 

With a pitched storm gathering at the brow of the mountain range they had been heading for, the Stalwarts had pitched camp at the first scatted copse of trees they found-- despite it barely being mid-morning-- and battened down for what would be a violent pummeling. The tents were far closer together, lashed to the wagons and tree both, awnings pitched in the open spaces between until the entire campsite was a giant ring of canvas strung low and tight to protect every member of the company, regardless of how many legs they had. Squads sent out for food, forage and water had been trickling in as the clouds boiled closer, but thus far they were being buffeted by only wind and cold.

Panting behind the scarf wound around her face, Anelli resettled her grip on the wooden sword that was feeling twice as heavy in her hands. Than stalked around to her left and she automatically mirrored the move to keep him in her sights. His grin was exhilarated with enjoyment to have an opponent that did not make him feel like a fool, but he'd been too often in her boots to take advantage of the position of power. They had made friends outside of the ring, but within, they were opponents that became better matched every day. In time, she would understand that she was improving him as well.

"Get your fool hands up, Thinky, or she'll rightly take your head off!"

Digging deep for some reserve of energy, Anelli rushed Than, spinning to the right as he swung wildly and jamming her wooden sword into his ribs hard enough to make him yelp and fall to hands and knees. Without a moment's hesitation, she planted her left foot, pivoted and smacked him across the back to drive him to the cold ground. It would have been a pair of lethal blows in true combat and there was a rush of scattered cheering from the nearby troops.

When something prodded Anelli sharply in the back, she whipped around with intent, the wooden sword slicing with more instinct than skill and the Captain stepped back only just far enough for the blunt tip to whistle past her nose. The staff jabbed again and Anelli would marvel later that she instinctually sidestepped the admittedly slow and blatantly telegraphed hit. That she reacted at all past the blast of shock and alarm flooding her body and soul with desperate energy was amazing in itself.


	26. Chapter 26

"Come on then," Phyra taunted lightly, slapping the staff butt at the smaller figure's feet and watching her-- she was assuming a woman and not a stripling boy-- jumped back. "There's rarely only one opponent in a fight. Let's see what the big dog has taught you."

Noting there was nary a guffaw from the forever-irreverent Dagith, Phyra was curious, but dared not take her eyes off the recruit now that battle had been engaged. She'd finally gotten wind of the newcomer in-- of all places-- a meeting with the trio of courtesans two days ago to ensure that they were satisfied with their care. Lady Rose was concerned that they had not seen the head of the company nor the shy rabbit that was now facing the Captain with wide, pale eyes the only thing showing past the heavy winter gear. The color tugged at her heart with the familiarity of it, the warm woman that she had left behind, the summery color not unlike… Shrugging off the memories and the coincidence of a gaze not dissimilar to the friend left behind, Phyra ignored the distracting buzz of her magical instincts, well familiar with how weather like this affected her.

Taking care to telegraph the move, Phyra lunged out as though the staff were a spear and was satisfied when the girl swatted the tip aside and remembered to bring up the buckler strapped to her off arm to protect her now-open side.

"Take advantage of an opening like that if you can. A polearm thrust leaves the body open and vulnerable for a moment."

Jerkily, Anelli nodded, fighting down the urge to breathe too hard, too fast. There was no getting out of this and Dagith's owl-eyed shock behind Phyra was silent agreement. She'd been aching to see the Elven woman but too afraid of being sent away and this would be the only chance she'd get to make a final plea in her defense. Not through words, but actions. Dropping into a half-crouch, she feinted to the left, hoping to draw the staff/spear tip away and try for a body blow. While Phyra recognized the effort, it was a legitimate one and she offered the recruit a scant moment to try the move, absorbing the blow to the ribs with satisfaction.

"Good effort," she praised and spun so they could square off once more.

"Shield up, Sparrow," Dagith said in a strangely strangled voice, all joviality gone. "And remember that thing has two ends."

In illustration, Phyra whipped the staff around, aiming for the sword arm's shoulder. Again, not a fast blow, nor a hard one, merely a teaching gesture, and Sparrow brought up the sword in defense. This time she lunged even as the wooden weapons cracked together, aiming the buckler not at Phyra's hip, but her knees. It was unexpected and the experienced warrior danced back awkwardly and laughed.

"That's the spirit!"

It was agony to witness Phyra so open, even joyful, the deeply black eyes sparkling in the dimming sunlight, her smile luminous. Desperate to draw this out, to perhaps let the weather buy her an escape, Anelli dug deep and fought like a demon, tamping down a desperate cry into a growl, trying to draw the battle out until the clouds arrived. Astonishingly, the lessons took over, gave some accuracy to her swings, to the position of agile feet and the battered buckler strapped to her arm. Still, no matter how Phyra held back, landing a hard blow was inevitable and Sparrow went sprawling. The helmet broke loose and clattered away, the cloak's hood-- no longer trapped-- slipped from pale brown curls, the blue scarf trailing across the icing ground. Visibly panting for breath, the girl curled her arms around her head as though expecting another blow and Phyra could not resist a light poke to the ribs.

"Come on then, will you survive to fight another day, quiet one?"

Amusingly, the girl shook her head and Phyra fired a questioning look back at Dagith. Only to be sobered by the alarmed look on his face, echoed in Than beside him. It made no sense and she slowly brought her gaze back to the figure sprawled in the dirt. Even those barely interested were beginning to catch on that something odd was going on and attention focused even as the storm raced ever closer. Phyra's instincts were becoming alarmed even as she knew there was no danger, a mix of familiar agitation to her magics in the face of the violent weather and the mystery of what was going on beneath her nose.

That agitation deepened as the recruit rolled over painfully and sat up, the scarf slipping away and Phyra was rooted to the spot in absolute shock, staring into the somber blue eyes she had been unable to get out of her mind.

"Anelli…"


	27. Chapter 27

Now that the inevitable was at her doorstep, Anelli fell to calm, regretting Phyra's shock even as the drank up the absolute focus of the regard.

"Phyra," she groaned out through clenched teeth, wracked with the agony of bruises and sheer exhaustion. Grunting, she gave up attempting to be even partially upright, collapsing back to the icy ground and dragging her knees up to take pressure off of her aching back.

"How… what are you doing here?"

"Fairly recruited by the second in command," Dagith spoke up, moving to kneel beside his trainee and gentling his voice. "You've pushed too hard, Sparrow. With snow on the way, we can spare the fresh water for a bath to ease your aches."

"Thank you, sir. I'll be just a moment, but I think I can manage."

Still gripped by shock, Phyra shook her head as though trying to clear it. There were shouts of alarm as Tahrah whistled in alarm from close by.

"But you can't be here! I left you behind to keep you safe!"

Snow and wind gathered, drawn closer by the ear-popping pressure of agitated magics and the troops grew alarmed. From deep within, Anelli found one last burst of strength, hauling herself to her feet and shoving aside the staff, held with unconscious defensiveness in Phyra's hands. A hard grip on muscled upper arms focused the mage, even as she continued to shake her head in disbelief.

"I am not the sort to be left behind and I'd rather action than my own tears."

It was all she could manage, staggering into Phyra's stronger body with a moan and soaking up the grip of strong arms around her, the staff clattering to the ground. Once more, Phyra murmured her companion's name, unconsciously gripping her close, breathing in the scent of her, wallowing in the softness of curls tickling her face.

The storm arrived with a roar even as Dagith snatched up the sparring gear and gave Phyra a push. "C'mon then! Time to hunker down and wait it out!"

Gathering up Anelli's smaller body, Phyra obeyed the big hand on her back and retreated to the command tent. An agitated Tahrah followed closely, shaking the snow from his dappled gray hide. Phyra barely took note of the ability that had been manifesting more and more strongly over time; his coat ranging from black to near-white and all shades between like shifting shadows and fog. All that mattered now was the presence of the young woman she had honestly thought to never see again.


	28. Chapter 28

The sensation of being carried like a child was a foreign one, but Anelli could not bring herself to object. Nose pressed into the darkly chestnut hair, she drank in being close to Phyra once again. In those blissful moments, she nearly fell into the first truly relaxed sleep she'd had since leaving Godam. But the comfort of the embrace was not to be hers for long, instead she was set on a firm but yielding surface, earning a soft sound of objection.

"You fool," Phyra murmured, voice soft and a bit broken as she leaned over the bed to press her forehead to Anelli's shoulder. "I wanted you safe."

"Safe is a relative state, Elvish," Anelli huffed in some dry amusement, startled when Phyra sobbed abruptly. Even aching with exhaustion, the younger woman could not ignore that supplicating sound and wearily raised her hands to stroke the deeply red hair, noting how Phyra shuddered when she brushed an ear, her forehead pressing down hard. "I regretted letting you walk away the moment the door closed behind you, and I didn't want to become the sum of my regrets or to live long but not live. And you've need of me too."

It was as much statement as question and Phyra nodded jerkily as she reached up to gently pull her hand away from that sensitive ear and cradle it in her own.

"Sorry, I forget you don't like that."

The strangled sound of amusement was not the reply she'd been expecting, any more than the murmured, "quite the opposite, darling."

Anelli froze and felt herself flush warmly with realization of the truth of those seemingly ridiculous, salacious rumors of Elven ears… and the warm endearment Phyra had let slip. What else was a girl to do, but nuzzle the warm temple close by, soak up the feel of dark hair, the brush of a tender ear tip against her nose? That sharp, eloquent shudder of reaction was intoxicating in the raw truth of it.

"I've a million things to tell you, and apologies to make for deceiving," Anelli murmured, vision growing hazy and voice thick. "But can you watch over me so that I can finally rest? I've missed you so…"

Caught up in the brush of that tender mouth on her skin, it took a moment for Phyra to register the words and she raised her head to take in the pale eyes, barely slit open, the slender body growing boneless in helpless exhaustion.

"Yes," she said somberly and pressed a warm kiss to Anelli's forehead. "I will guard you. Rest now."

Reaching down to unbuckle the heavy belt that held the heavy cloak close to her body as well as the empty sword scabbard and a mid-sized dagger, Phyra flicked aside the heavy wool and blinked in surprise. Seeing her own, old livery wrapped around Anelli's smaller frame was a complete shock. She hadn't even realized that it was still about somewhere. Then she startled again when she realized exactly what that meant. Dagith had recruited this surprising young woman… specifically with the intent of becoming her squire… and the equivalent of consort. As the fine old wool had already began crumpling in to the shape of Anelli's body, she had clearly worn it near-constantly in acceptance of the role.

The illicit thrill that ran across Phyra's nerves was hot and slightly guilt-inducing. The friendliness and ease between them could mean just that, could carry none of the need of one body to belong to another's, for souls to touch ever deeper. Mother knew that wasn't true on Phyra's part, for she was utterly certain of her deep attraction to this young spitfire, this wildcard who had followed into the unknown.

Sitting up earned a sleepy murmur of protest and Phyra quickly stripped off weapons and armor to leave them beside the bed before snuggling down beside her companion, her breath matching the slow, easy rhythm and finally finding a peace that she had been missing. No matter how they might play out, together they would be enough.


	29. Chapter 29

Jerking awake suddenly, Anelli moaned at the hot, dull ache of a body abused.

"Feels like Father himself has been beating me," she gritted out even as the body that had been warming her and the blissfully proper bed cradling her.

"No need to be blasphemous," Phyra chuckled lowly and a delicate, calloused hand came to rest on the other woman's temple and cheek. "Lie still. Trust me."

"I do."

Murmuring softly words that had little meaning outside of those blessed and cursed with magic, Phyra drew upon Mother's Gifts, focused the arcane energy inside her. It was remarkably, blissfully easy to pour it from her to Anelli, who sucked in a quick, surprised breath.

"Oh," she breathed out as a heat never felt coiled through her, chased back the pain and left euphoria in its wake. "Does it always feel like that?"

"No. Apparently Dagith was right and our bond is true."

The statement could still mean many things, for love took on many forms.

"That makes a difference then? A bond?"

Anelli's touch had changed and Phyra shuddered with it. No longer only friendly, this gentle coaxing felt more like the touch of a lover. Phyra sobbed softly with it as the very emotional effort of magic left her as vulnerable as it always did, all the more vulnerable and easy with someone she cared about.

Someone with whom she hovered at the precipice of love.

Distracted and calmed with Anelli's hands pressing her to accept the simple solace of a warm body to cuddle, Phyra gave in, tucking her nose into the soft place just beneath the hinge of Anelli's jaw. The fingertips quietly resting on her cheek made her smile, but not as much as the thumb fitted to the small cleft in her chin.

"Magic is easier with any positive bond with the recipient, the most obvious being healing of course. But there is all manner of martial gifts I can bestow as well, to make you and others faster, stronger, sturdier; to see in the dark as a cat, as silent as an owl, to scent as a dog."

"All sounds very useful and a mix of all the deities."

"Yes, none have ever claimed me as theirs."

"Diversity suits you better than being a Chosen."

There was no means for Anelli to hear the faintest wisp of The Mother's chuckle in the depths of Phyra's mind like an echo to her broken bond with Tevric.


	30. Chapter 30

A gurgle of hunger roused the women from their dozing and was immediately echoed by the other. The noises were clear in the strangely quiet little space in the annex of the Command Tent that was Phyra's home. As she would begin to make a habit of, she attributed the unnatural, muffled silence of the space to magic. Since she could accurately sense her companion's Gifts, she was a fairly accurate barometer and would grow more accurate with time. But for the moment, she merely enjoyed the quiet.

"We should get up."

"Mmmm," Phyra hummed softly, the sound noncommittal, and Anelli couldn't help but grin. She tickled one hand down the Elf's ribs, earning a squirm, caressing under that strong jaw with the other. Another incoherent sound, childishly petulant, deepened her grin and managed to get both moving slowly. With the intent of rewarding the albeit reluctant compliance, Anelli slithered away, but paused to press a soft, adoring kiss to the corner of Phyra's mouth, noses brushing, before standing to stretch luxuriously.

"I feel terrific, Elvish, thank you. Though I intend on collecting on that promised bath if I have to harangue Dogbone himself to draw it."

Pausing in drawing back her pale brown curls, Anelli caught Phyra staring at her oddly where she'd sat the edge of the bed.

"What is it?"

"You… kissed me?"

The lilt of question made Anelli grin with delight and saunter over to straddle her very surprised companion. "My darling Mage, unless you have no interest in my affections, I plan on doing much more. You think I left my home only for adventure? I think not. To tend your needs," her smile turned wicked, voice lowering, "all of your needs, I assure you was a bonus not to be passed up by this girl. Dagith was right that you will be no burden. Come, food first and I will not dissuaded from being clean for the first time since leaving the Griffin."

Clambering off of the gawking Phyra, she held out a hand, one eyebrow raised in imperious demand, until they were linked by warm fingers and left the quiet space together.


	31. Chapter 31

Stepping from the captain's small room, Anelli was instantly assaulted by three things; the roar of the storm, accompanied by the bite of true cold even through her woolens, and the whuff of horse breath at the end of a vey abrupt nose. Jerking to the side, she shoved said nose and both made a rude noise and stepped away like gladiators preparing to duel.

Phyra's burst of laughter was a shock to all of them and she stepped between, both hands raised in a placating gesture. Instantly Tahrah's hide flushed a paler grey and he snuffled over her face and chest. A ruckus of welcome heralded those closest to Phyra had been close by and she was amused and sweetly consternated that only Hardrasken came to her first. All of the others flocked to Anelli, even the normally taciturn Maget, and the young woman burst into a silly grin that Child Itself would have giggled in delight over.

"What, no nickname?" she teased Dagith who laughed uproariously and made a great show of rubbing his bristly chin in thought.

"Well hibernating bear is a bit of a mouthful and applesauce just sounds silly."

Punching the big man in the arm, Anelli scoffed, "applesauce. Clearly Child has touched you in the head. Oh hey, Fancy, glad to see you and even gladder for your cooking!"

Despite himself, Jhedvin was clearly pleased, his pointed ears flushing the smallest bit.

"Wow," Hardrasken marveled. "She even cracked a smile from that old warhorse. They really like her."

"She's very easy to like."

The soppy adoration made the Artificer stare at his Elven friend. "Ugh, I've lost you again, haven't I? I'll be the last bachelor in all the realms at this rate."

They two had been Tevric's closest peers and companions and the ache of his loss burned most personal for them. While Phyra had retreated to quiet and solitude, Hardrasken covered his agony with flippancy and a sass that would find its equal in Anelli. Phyra could hardly wait to see them duke it out.

All three of the Stalwart's Mages were there and Anelli greeted Than even as she eyed Hardrasken curiously and with perhaps a wisp of jealousy. All three courtesans were there, remaining at the big worktable that showed an interrupted meal and card game. That instantly had Phyra's professional senses on alert, but Rose's small smile reassured her. Doubtlessly the forced inactivity would be keeping the trio busy, perhaps uncomfortably so. A break would be welcome and absolutely necessary. Seeing to the emotional and carnal health of more than three hundred was no simple task.

Before she could move towards the table though, Anelli appeared, handing over a baked savory pie, having already taken a bite of another. While no longer hot, the sustenance was welcome and Phyra forgot her manners by taking an enormous bite that made Hardrasken laugh. Sweeping into a bow, he missed Anelli's arched brow that made Phyra nearly choke on laughter more than crumbs.

"Hardrasken Arowark Ansornian of Clan Sandwater," he introduced dramatically, but for once kept his hands to himself, knowing that this slip of a thing was forbidden territory thanks to his old friend's bond to her. 

"That's quite a mouthful, good sir," she commented dryly, once more threatening to choke out Phyra, before putting on a simpering face and crouching in a completely ridiculous curtsy that made them all laugh. "Anelliana Gimarian. I believe that someone should have warned me about you."

Once Hardrasken had pounded Phyra back to breathing, he shoved her towards the big table to catch her breath and focused on the new person in his life. She was on the small side, wiry with pale curls and flashing sky blue eyes in a girlishly beautiful face. There was an air of mischief like Child Itself to her, but enough weight to keep herself and those around her grounded, and an edge of steel in those seemingly guileless eyes.

He liked her already.


	32. Chapter 32

Anelli watched the other Mage grin slowly, the expression lightening his somber spring-earth eyes and scruffy, handsome face. Like every being born magical, he bore the unmistakable flash of red in his shaggy hair, nearly as dark as Phyra's, but duller, less striking. Unbidden, her gaze flickered to the Elf, brows drawn in thought.

"What is it?" Hardrasken asked and the blue eyes swung back around.

"Your coloring is close enough you could be siblings…"

"Except for the ears?"

While he'd meant the comment as teasing, he was unprepared for the glare he received. "No need to be flippant. I was going to say that her coloring was richer somehow and I can't place what it is."

Her fierceness made Hardrasken stifle a smile. Yes, he could see what had enticed his quiet, serious sister of heart.

"My coloring is a perfectly ordinary-- yet devastatingly handsome-- red and brown, whereas the lovely Lady Getteray is polished mahogany bloodwood and onyx. I may be as a little brother to her, but I can still appreciate beauty when I see it."

"I've heard of bloodwood," Anelli mused. "But never seen it. Regardless, I appreciate the lyrical description. If I understand the gravity of your name, you are even further from home than Phyra."

"I am. And the Furnace Sands could not be more different than this cold place." With an expansive gesture, he encouraged the girl to walk with him to join Phyra at the big table. "Phy, you've not shown you squire that talisman of yours? I'd have assumed her touch all over it."

As he had been fishing for, the dusky flush over her strong cheekbones was noticeable, the rough throat clearing and long glare making him grin leeringly.

"You presume… familiarity, Hardrasken."

His mock leer dropped in favor of laughter and Anelli sat beside Phyra, her body pressed tight to the larger woman's side and leaning around behind her to grab for a mug and pitcher. It was no mistake that she brushed teasingly close and relished the twinge of reaction it invoked. "I'm not sure I like him, Elvish."

"He's my dearest friend and I'm not entirely sure that I like him either, darling."

In the storm of amusement, Anelli leaned in to press her nose and forehead to Phyra's cheek and temple. She refused to hold back her affections for the other woman, for it was not in her nature and they had all been so welcoming. Nor would she torment, despite the temptation of the powerful, womanly body so close and the burning curiosity of those dratted ears!

So Anelli contented herself with an affectionate nuzzle, as a friendly cat would, and left off to twist around and bother Dagith over the promised bath. Phyra hated the sensation of feeling half paralyzed with mixed emotions only one of her kind amidst so many Humans could understand. One never shed the constant itch of danger from a lifetime of being so blatantly 'other'. The seasons in Godam had only reinforced that, the unrelenting suspicion and surprise her presence invoked, so often sliding into something dangerous when red was added to the equation. So many harsh looks and muttered words wearing down her already shattered emotions from war, from losing her homeland, from losing Tevric.

"You, ok, Phy?"

The acceptance in Anelli's easy touch, the arm over hunched shoulders, the breath of voice near her ear, the warm thrum of concern, eased Phyra's torment effortlessly. No wonder she'd found the girl irresistible. The smile was small, but warm, for it was time to let go her self-imposed exile and move on.

"Yes, I think I just might be. Come, let's get you that bath."


	33. Chapter 33

Yes, the moody Elf ran hot and cold and confusing, but Anelli found her more fascinating than frustrating. Which was a good thing.

All business now, Phyra grabbed a quartet of buckets from a stack and handed off two of them before stepping outside the tent and into the gale. Anelli's yelp at the abrupt change in temperature wasn't feigned, for it was brutal in the elements, even more one having grown up in Godam's seasonal extremes was accustomed to. By the time they'd tromped back and forth a full half dozen times, both were chilled to the edge of discomfort, but the heating stones were quickly reducing the powdery snow to water that would soon steam with heat.

"Never been around so much sorcery in my life," Anelli murmured without thinking as she looked into the slushy mess, the hot stones glowing as they worked. Pausing in her actions, Phyra looked over, her expression conflicted and Anelli caught the change in body language in the corner of her eye. From ease to defensive animal in one comment. Caught between exasperation and concern, the younger woman stepped over, hands open in entreaty. Rather than speak, she merely stood close, leaned her head in until she rested against the jut of collarbones beneath Phyra's winter garb.

"You'll weary of my mood swings."

"I won't. Nor the necessity for self-control that forces you to be aloof because of your magic, nor the soul-wounds you carry for the fools who cannot see past your differences. You are what you are, dear-heart and I accept that at some point you will scare me half to death, you will try to push me away, I will lose my not-insignificant temper, I will mope over missing the familiarity of the city and so on." Mouthing along that tense, sharp jaw, Anelli spoke again, her voice soft. "You are worth it and I will keep saying it."

This time it was Phyra that twisted her head, caught Anelli's mouth with her own, exhaled hard into the abrupt kiss. Content to be the submissive partner for now, Anelli tilted her head to save her bent nose and remained soft and encouraging as stark nerves bled away in the blending of their mouths. Yes, the kiss had been a bit unexpected, a bit aggressive, more than a bit awkward, but it melted Phyra's jittery emotions to something resembling calm and Anelli smiled and curled around a hand the base of the taller woman's skull, settling her thumb on the hard jut of bone just behind her ear.

"You're grinning," Phyra commented breathlessly, their lips still brushing and Anelli's grin grew. Opening her eyes, she studied the black gaze of her destiny, glittering with a heated intent that delighted her.

"Well, yes. A kiss like that will do that to a girl."

"You are a gift."

That did it, Anelli clutching her new mate close in a strong hug. "As are you. Now," the more businesslike tone eased the delicious tension and their close embrace. "Bath. Would you care for one when I finish?"

Both felt the pull of more like magnetism, but the intimacy of nakedness felt like a bit too much. However, Phyra realized that Anelli had been far braver than she so far, even now stripping in eagerness to get to the heated water. The old, sturdy-soft linen was soft when Phyra caught Anelli's arm, tugging her into an embrace, the blue eyes gone wide and pleased.

Their gazes held through a tender kiss and Phyra leaned away only far enough to tenderly stroke fingertips over brows, skirting around a blue eye, along the adorably pug nose. "Yes. Come get me any time."

It was a multi-layered comment.


	34. Chapter 34

While warmed and eager over the attraction between them, nonetheless, Anelli was nervous too. So, she was willing to let Phyra walk out, particularly after the loving pets and kisses.

Not a hardship to care for her indeed!

Thrilled to strip to her skin, Anelli twisted to glace over herself, shocked to see how her muscles were subtly changing and the lack of damage to her flesh, considering how awful she'd felt just yesterday. Some definite advantages to having magic about to be sure. 

With tongs, she pulled out all but one stone, dropping them carelessly into their insulating bucket of pumice. No sense in lighting anything on fire inadvertently! Submerging the available wooden stool to sit over the remaining stone, Anelli happily climbed into the hot water with a pleased hiss and settled in to soak.

Meanwhile, Phyra checked in with her two seconds before deciding a tour of their temporary town was well in order. There had been a… mood threading through the assembly of soldiers that she hadn't yet been able to put a finger on, a faint note of discontent that could spiral out of control. So far, she hadn't been able to root it out, but it was only a matter of time. This early into their forced captivity due to the storm, the assembly was holding up, but cabin fever would be a problem soon enough; realistically by this coming night in fact. So Phyra set the most aggressive and highest strung to rearranging the horses so that a ring could be set up. Some rough games would help keep everyone loose, active and calm and was status quo in a situation like this. 

By the time she wandered back, she was chilled, but satisfied with the condition of the camp. Laughter came from the command tent, beckoning her into the warmth of the space and the raised voices of welcome when she stepped in. Amusingly, Anelli was mid-pirouette, dropping out of it at the appearance of the captain, her smile tinged with sheepishness. Walking over to tug the snowy cloak's ties loose, Anelli tugged away the protective fabric to walk over to the heating unit and hang it to dry. Nonplussed, Phyra passed on her brief report to Dagith and Maget, who immediately started planning out what to include in the games, the cards scattered around the big table instantly forgotten. That was cue enough for the courtesans to begin gathering their coats and sundry to head back to their workspace.

"Thank you for the hospitality," Lady Rose spoke with quiet authority and nodded to the room in general as she began shepherding her younger charges out. Phyra was startled when the woman's gaze flicked over her shoulder and the serious mouth curled into an approving smile. "Have a nice evening, Captain."

Turning, Phyra saw that Anelli had just stepped out of the bathing chamber and was watching curiously. "A bath, Elvish?"

There was no reason to put it off, so Phyra strode in, absently beginning the painstaking process of removing the endless layers of armor, weapon and cloth.

"Can I help?"

It wouldn't be until later that Phyra realized that she then brusquely brushed the girl off, missing the faint note of nervous trepidation in her voice, distracted as she was once again.

This squire thing would take some getting used to.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay. I'm working on getting my multi-tasking abilities back to par. :)
> 
> Curse you MCU for being so interesting!

Warmed and clean, Phyra found the neat pile of clean, folded linens awaiting her on a canvas and cane stool perched over the bath stones bucket so that heat rose and warmed the awaiting fabric. It was a nice gesture and set the quiet Elf to thinking about her companion again. 

She'd even found the house boots and left them. The rabbit fur lining of the heavy knit knee-highs felt good and the thick leather soles cushioned an already quiet tread. When she stepped into the public area of the command tent, Phyra could see that, while it stood unusually empty, preparations had already been made for habitation with cots and trunks set near the heater, bedding laid out neatly. The horses had been fed and watered and their manure cleaned up, the beasts dozing on their picket line. 

The savory smells of dinner greeted Phyra when she slipped though the fabric flaps that separated her personal space, that and a faint, breathy snore. Caused by Anelli sleeping uncomfortably on the lone chair in the room, head lolling back. The shades of her were a bit agitated, bruised and so very confused; an aura in conflict. Another skill that Phyra was going to need to work on, clearly. As though picking up on the silent presence, Anelli woke with a start, looking around wildly and nearly leaping out of the chair when she spotted someone else, but settling almost instantly.

"Shards and smoke, Phy, you startled the life out of me. Your dinner is waiting for you. Is there somewhere I can sleep? I think the wagon would be dangerously cold right now, though I'll need to get a few of my things I suppose, find a corner for my hammock, find somewhere to settle…"

Trying not to overthink for once, Phyra stepped over and wrapped her up in a full-body hug, breathing in the scents in the bread-crust brown curls. "I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean to be brusque with you before. Please stay, give me a chance to adapt to you being here with me. Please."

Anelli nodded and returned the hug. "I don't know why I got so upset. It's just… I'm nervous, Elvish. I have no idea what I'm doing with you, especially this squire role."

"I have to adapt as well. Let you take control of some parts of my life. Share a meal with me and we'll talk it out?"

"I had some, but I'll keep you company and nibble."

"Excellent. Thank you for the house boots, by the way. I don't even know where you found them."

"The trunk of your winters?" Anelli drawled teasingly over the obviousness of the fact and relished the quick kiss on her temple before Phyra let go. The talking was still a stilted affair over the meal, but rather than jump to offense, Anelli watched carefully how Phyra rubbed her forehead, the back of her neck, listened to how her words would stop and start, how her gaze would fade to some faraway place before snapping back to the here and now.

That pressure of magics was pressing close again, forestalled when Anelli's hand grabbed Phyra's forearm in a hard grip.

"It's the storm, isn't it?"

"Yes. And I'm distracted and jumpy."

When Phyra couldn't meet her eye, Anelli received a jolt of surprised heat when she realized this powerful woman and mage was distracted because of her.


	36. Chapter 36

It was why Phyra worried, why she fought getting close to another, to letting down her guard. Any decision, no matter how minor nor how earth-shattering, was never just her own to make.

"The weather and emotion do not seem to affect Than so," Anelli spoke very gently and reached out her second hand to wrap it around Phyra's as an anchor.

"Than's talent is a… minor one."

"It demands less of him I can glean from your tone?"

"Yes."

She was shaking now, her own turmoil given life.

"I… I don't…"

Anelli did not know the way of Mages, but her instincts had been accurate with this one. So she stood, still holding Phyra's hand, and scooted the table out of the way to straddle the larger woman. The look on her face was priceless, black eyes wide, hands automatically settling to Anelli's narrow hips. Cupping the dramatic face in her small hands, Anelli watched the burning dark eyes flutter, stroked that full mouth with her thumbs.

"You are fearless."

"So you keep telling me."

"I don't know that I will ever grow used to that."

"Good. I would hate to be taken for granted."

"Never."

"We'll see."

The teasing held no heat, their lips brushing, voices low and intimate. It felt natural to let the gentle brushing to lead to slow kisses time fading away as they explored one another. Anelli slowly and gently massaged at Phyra's neck until the woman finally started to relax, her stressed attentions fading to long-ingrained skills of control while her consciousness focused on the kisses, on Anelli's compact weight all over her. A shift in the lush softness of her mouth and the wandering hands clued Anelli in that the Mage was distracted again.

"What is it?"

"This is going to sound foolish, but I find it oddly … disconcerting to find you in my old clothes."

The peal of laughter was not feigned, Anelli burying her head in Phyra's shoulder while she shook with laughter. "Oh, Elvish, you are too much."

"It wasn't that funny."

The faint disgruntlement earned a hard kiss and Anelli leaned back with a smoldering, feline grin. "I've a solution for that, darling."

Phyra's eyes went wide as, in one smooth motion, Anelli stripped her entire upper half bare to her skin.


	37. Chapter 37

Oh, it had been such a long time since Phyra had been offered the simple solace of another's warm skin. More importantly, the offer from someone she cared to even contemplate such intimacy with. Delicately, with tender, calloused fingertips, she traced over the slender strength of Anelli's shoulders, arms, the curve of her ribs. The younger woman stayed silent, watching that intent, warm expression, laced with awe and reveling in the none too subtle thrill to be the cause of it.

Gently, coaxingly, Anelli threaded her fingers into Phy's deeply red hair to draw her close, to rest against the bareness of her torso, to absorb the shudder of contact from one body to the other.

"That's my girl," the imp murmured affectionately, earning a slit-eyed look of pure exasperated affection before Phyra surged up, catching that smart mouth in a deep kiss. That was more than invitation enough for Anelli to start tugging at the ties on her clothes, determined to root out warm flesh. That was the catalyst she'd been gently searching for, a low growl of want in Phyra's throat and a deeper need in her touches. With full participation established by both parties, it was easy to mutually fumble at Phyra's more intricate garments-- as befitted her station-- with much giggling, until they could shuck bare and tumble beneath warm bedding to let their needful bodies get acquainted. 

A blur of pleasure and the subtle buzz of magic and the raging storm beyond the tent walls consumed them for a long while. Phyra was faintly startled and entirely amused at the quietness of Anelli as a lover, only the murmurs of broken words and carnal pleasures a burr of sound in the back of her throat, no matter how she squirmed and writhed like a trapped animal. "Worth leavin' home for, Elvish," she murmured as her body relaxed and earned a burst of laughter at the endless cheek and sass. They lay quietly for some time, Anelli content beneath the heat of her new lover's mass, stroking the rich, loose waves of darkly red hair, studiously avoiding the sweep of ear half hidden there. Eventually though, her distracted caresses had the desired effect, Phyra's small movements growing in urgency.

"I need you," the Mage finally murmured hoarsely, moved beyond her constant control, the magics alive and well in the small room. With a tug at the coveted hair, Anelli stilled her from moving away, forced the restless dark eyes to focus on her blue-sky eyes.

"Phy, look at me. Watch my eyes; don't look away."

Blindly, her small hand wandered over voluptuous curves in carnal exploration even as her mind fell deeper and deeper into the strange experience of magic both mundane and arcane. The ink black eyes were fathomless, no hint of the pupils that lay in perpetual darkness, disguising some of the woman's expressiveness, but Anelli stared hard into them, picking up nuances few would. The flash of white beyond the large irises, the crinkle of expression at the points inner and outer, the flutter of lash and lid. 

The rush of ecstasy came quickly, easily, the magic and Phyra's urgent body driving the breath from Anelli's small frame. She held Phyra's chin, refusing to release the black eyes even as they blinked clear of stress and lust, the magic letting up like a harsh exhale of long-held breath. Phyra's kisses were lazy and warm, further easing the adrenaline rush of magic and lust that left Anelli rattled, settled her into her own skin once more.

"That was quite the intimacy," she murmured into the kisses, felt the smile even as they watched one another's eyes once more.

"You handled it well, darling. You never cease to amaze me at how... accepting you are of the magic."

Needing to stretch, Anelli nudged her lover to roll to her side so she could coil and uncoil every muscle like a lazy cat before cuddling close. "I imagine that must be what being trapped in a raging river is like. If you fight the current, terrifying and exhausting, but traveling with it, not so much."

For a moment, Phyra's lazily caressing hands stilled before starting up again. "I suppose that makes sense. I can only guess what it must be like for one such as you, as I have never been without the magic. And my gifts are powerful enough to be... cumbersome."

"You do that a lot. Pause before speaking."

"Merely searching for the right words, my lovely distraction."

"Ah, is that it? Then allow me to distract you again."


	38. Chapter 38

Some indeterminate time later, Phyra woke to her familiar camp bed, pleasantly sore and limp as a kitten. It was night and the magic-fueled lamp blazed lowly... and her bed was empty. The blaze of loss startled her with its strength, but the rush of magic vanished like smoke with a gentle hand on her head.

"Hungry?"

The gentle query brought up a smile and a gurgle of urgent hunger, but Phyra was too relaxed to do more than roll onto her back, perilously close to the edge of the bed. "How did you manage to sneak away?"

Chuckling, Anelli swallowed what she had been chewing industriously at to lean over and bestow sweet kisses. "Oh fierce one, I could have marched through here with cymbals and you'd hardly stirred. I'm greatly flattered that you slept so soundly in my presence. Now, go scrub your teeth if you've need of more than nuzzling."

"Bossy," Phyra chuckled, but did as ordered, shocked at how loose and muzzy she felt. It had truly been far too long since she had been offered succor from the pressures of her powerful magics. Anelli completely missed the lingering adoration sent her way, busy with her meal as Phyra climbed into a heavy house robe to shuffle from the room. Only her fellow Elf was in the room, puttering over a cauldron of something savory, the horses shuffling and muttering beyond him.

"Ah, Captain, good to see you are still among the living," Jhedvin snipped, but she caught the note of affectionate amusement beneath. "I was not entirely convinced by your squire."

"No? She can be very convincing."

The thrum of teasing and a dash of naughtiness earned her a raised brow that made her chuckle outright.

"Indeed. I've provisions to sate simpler hungers, but if you'd be so kind as to reassure that hooved monster of yours first?"

Saluting sloppily, Phyra shuffled off to be snuffled over by a glaring Tahrah, his imperious nosing nearly knocking her off unsteady feet. "Have you grown bored, my handsome steed, or are you merely jealous?"

The stallion muttered in his way, completely amusing his Elven companion. She moved off to indulge in a quick scrub up before climbing back into the heavy robe and rejoining Jhedvin. 

"How goes this blasted storm?"

"Hardrasken seems to think the worst is over, though we'll spend an extra day digging ourselves from beneath this snow. A third of the tent circle has already been collapsed from the accumulation, though the others have it hand they claim. Oh, and Dagith brought Anelli's things. It slipped my mind earlier."

"Thank you, Ersis." 

Startled and torn between pleasure and discomfort at his personal name, the man nodded and handed over a heavy earthenware mug filled with rich blackbark brew. "You're welcome. The games are proceeding as expected, rough and urgent from the stress of confinement. It will be good to be moving once more."

"Truer words, old friend. I think I shall defer to Dagith and Maget to handle the camp for now. I confess I'm enjoying the downtime."

Jhedvin's wry look spoke volumes.


	39. Chapter 39

Anelli's relief at having her things at hand was not feigned as she kissed Phyra briefly and scrambled to drag in the sacks that had lain in the big wagon.

"These aren't mine," she said in confusion upon finding an unfamiliar sack heavy with weapons and armor. In an idle, expert glance, Phyra took in the collection-- far too much for one soldier-- and made her verdict.

"Clearly Dagith has brought a variety of armaments to be tested for weight and fit. You'll still practice with mock weapons for the time being, but you'll need to get accustomed to the feel of steel and hide as well."

She watched her young squire sort through the four swords, touch lingering and nervous. The overt menace of sharpened steel whose sole purpose was to harm was very different than wargames with a weighted, shaped stick. She bit back a warning as Anelli chose a middling-length blade that would suit her stature. Now was not the time to fuss as a lover; now she must be Captain and let the girl take further steps towards being soldier and warrior. It was an old, well-made sword ground narrow with years of sharpening.

"A good blade, to still be sound after so many grindings," Phyra noted idly, aware of Anelli looking over at her even as she continued to eat. "You've good instincts. Though it will need a better scabbard by the rattle it made leaving that one. What of the armor?"

Conflicted, but clearly bolstered by the matter-of-fact commentary on the process, Anelli flinched at the clatter of the chainmail tunic, dropping it as though burned, and was unimpressed with the heavy horsehide reinforced with seemingly decorative curlicues. Phyra nodded to herself as the small hands dug into the supple leather completely patterned with small steel diamond shapes just visible between the layers.

"Good choice, the scale; an excellent balance of protection and weight that will still let you move. That's a very small suit though, you'll have to wear it beneath your winter clothes. We'll test out the fit later in the ring and make modifications to your body. Leave off for now, darling, and come here."

Willingly, Anelli did as bidden, snuggling into Phyra's body and the blankets pulled around them. For a very long time they lay in easy quiet, Anelli's body quiet even as her mind raced like a wild horse. When she did speak, there was a hesitance and quiet to her that was as foreign as the feel of the long, deadly steel had been.

"I... I think that your observation that perhaps I hadn't truly thought this through may have more merit than I had first acknowledged."

Only when it was clear that the younger woman was not going to speak again, did Phyra murmur quietly, her tone somber and intent. "Holding a sword for the first time is a sobering experience and should be such. The dagger, the bow and hammer and shield can all be for mundane tasks, to hunt or carry or the like. But a sword truly bears only one purpose and that is to slay another being. Each soldier and warrior has to make their own peace with that, Darling, but you will not be alone in this."

Lazy kisses warmed both, alleviating the stress and building the adoration between them. A building inadvertently interrupted by Anelli when she spoke without thinking.

"I don't know that I could kill someone else."

Torn between sympathy for her stress and a strong desire to chuckle affectionately, Phyra tugged her new lover close and fell into kisses and caresses with more direct intent.

"We shall hope you never need to find out your capabilities in that respect. Come now, forget the possibilities for the moment and let me love you again."

**Author's Note:**

> Character Key  
>  **Phyra Getteray** \- (Peggy Carter) MAGE, possibly the most powerful natural talent of her ilk. Elf.  
>  **Anelliana 'Anelli' Gimarian 'Sparrow'** \- (Angie Martinelli) Our lynchpin.  
>  **Ersis Jhedvin of Clan Sandwater** \- (Edwin Jarvis) Elf.  
>  **Hardrasken Arowark Ansornian of Clan Sandwater 'Dras' 'Hearten'** \- (Howard Stark) MAGE, high-powered artificer.  
>  **Dagith 'Dogbone' Tamthen** \- (Timothy 'Dum Dum' Dugan) 2IC.  
>  **Maget Holt** \- (Maria Hill) 3IC.  
>  **Tahrah** \- Phyra's warhorse. (I think I've been channeling Max, from Tangled.)  
>  **Ita Paga** \- (Jim Morita) Not much of a talker.  
>  **Than 'Thinky' Arsan** \- (Junior Juniper) MAGE, low-level. Acts as company scribe and record-keeper.  
>  **Lady Rose** \- (Rose, who guards the SSR's secret doors in New York, with a bit of Mrs Fry thrown in.) The head courtesan.  
>  **Sansa Harper** \- (Daniel Sousa) courtesan and musician. Lost most of his left leg in the War.  
>  **Danya Overwild** \- (Dottie Underwood) courtesan. 
> 
>  
> 
> Mother- Earth- west- Green/Purple- emeralds - Protection/defense action- Emotion- Healing- control/overbearing  
> Father- Air- East- Yellow/Orange- topaz? - Direct Action- Intellect- Offensive action- Commerce- Building/infrastructure- Administration- coldness  
> Child- Water- North- Blue/Gray- sapphire - Covert action- Playfulness- Creativity- rage  
> Beast- Fire- South- Red- ruby - Wildness- the Hunt- Instinct- panic  
> Mother and Father are the two sides of war and organized conflict, defense and offense.


End file.
